It's All Been Done Before
by Ann
Summary: An SMK novel written by Mary (author of the "With or Without You" series) and Ann.
1. Chapter 1

It's All Been Done Before

An SMK novel by Mary and Ann

Authors' Note: This is a SMK novel that Mary and I wrote together way back in 2003 for a SMK zine that was sold for charity purposes. Since so much time has passed we've decided to post it here on . Unfortunately this site does not give a way to post a story under two authors' names. We both wrote the story working together and deserve equal writing credit. If you want to PM Mary she is the author of the "With or Without You" series.

PROLOGUE

It was one of those cold, frosty mornings in December – the kind that seemed made for no other purpose than burrowing beneath a pile of blankets, his wife's warm body nestled snugly against his. Instead, here he was, freezing his tail off as he picked his way through a garbage-strewn alley, his partner's parka-clad form smacking him squarely in the back every time he stopped.

"A- **man** -da," he groused as she bumped into him yet again. "Watch it, will you?"

"Sorry," she said, laughter rippling through the short word that seemed anything **but** an apology. "What do you expect when you don't let me eat breakfast? You know I can't think straight on an empty stomach."

"Evidently you can't walk straight either," he continued to grumble . "It's a good thing this is only a milk-run or my back might be in considerable trouble."

"Stetson, your back already **is** in considerable trouble – along with the rest of you," his partner responded in kind, "seeing as you saw fit to drag me out of the house at six o'clock on the morning after Christmas."

"Duly noted," he mumbled contritely. Looking back over his shoulder, he caught her eye with a wistful smile. "There are a few other things I'd rather be doing right now myself."

"I know." Amanda let out a plaintive sigh. "I can't believe Billy is making us work today of all days. And to make matters even worse, it's Saturday. He knows how I feel about keeping our personal time personal, especially at this time of year. And he promised us one entire week off this time, no exceptions. We have a house full of company. I mean, the boys are home, Mother's had Aunt Lillian visiting . . . and it would be nice to actually spend a little time with Emily before her vacation is over."

Lee's eyes widened as the words continued to tumble out of his wife's mouth. It never ceased to amaze him how even a few days away from the Agency could transform her so completely into the old Amanda. It brought a nostalgic smile to his lips; the cool, efficient Agent Stetson he worked with these days **never** rambled.

"At least we had Christmas Eve and Christmas day in peace," he commiserated as he guided her around yet another overflowing dumpster. "Forty-eight hours without a crisis in the 'Q' - I think that's some kind of record. The bad guys must be observing the holidays this year."

"Yeah, well, someone ought to inform them that in some countries, the day after Christmas is an official holiday, too," she put in sourly.

"I did try telling Billy that we were celebrating Boxing Day this year," he countered, a smile tugging at his lips. "But, for some reason, he didn't seem to buy it."

"Can't imagine why," came his wife's teasing reply, her mood lightening again. Lee's laughter mingled with hers as she added, "Oh, come on, Stetson, admit it – you wanted to take this meet. You just couldn't pass up the chance for a little holiday intrigue."

"I'd hardy call this intrigue, Amanda," he said as he came to a stop in front of a dilapidated door. He quickly verified the address printed beside it in barely legible letters. Removing his gloves, he handed them to Amanda and withdrew his double diamond from his hip pocket. "It's just a simple exchange of information," he said as he deftly picked the rusty lock. "A rookie could handle it."

He heard her draw a sudden breath then let it out with agonizing slowness. "I hate it when you say that," she told him, her voice growing unusually quiet as she clutched his gloves to her chest. "It's almost like you're inviting trouble."

He started to tease her in reply, but something in her eyes stopped him, something he couldn't quite read. Not fear, exactly but . . . well, whatever it was, it unsettled him.

"Hey, Mrs. Stetson," he managed to say, a rough tenderness creeping into his voice. "Don't tell me that after working together for almost ten years, you're suddenly becoming superstitious?"

She shrugged lightly, avoiding his gaze. "I guess I'm being silly," she said, folding his gloves and tucking them along with hers into her jacket pocket. "It's just that sometimes, when life is especially good . . . like it is now . . . I can't help thinking . . ."

"Thinking what?" he asked, cupping her cheek with his hand as her words trailed off into silence.

She leaned into his touch, turning to plant a kiss on his palm before she answered. "I can't help thinking how . . . tentative . . . things can be sometimes." She raised her enormous brown eyes to his. "Look at everything that's happened to us just because one cloudy morning in October there was a thirty-five percent chance of rain."

"We may have met by chance, Amanda," he said, his voice little more than a whisper. "But what happened between us had nothing to do with luck. We made it happen – the two of us - together. Now, come on," he entreated, his tone growing businesslike once again. "Let's get this damn meet over with so we can get home to our family. Hey, I'll even let you make me breakfast."

"Now **there's** an offer I can't refuse," she said, her easy laugh dispelling the remaining tension.

He grasped her hand and led her through the door. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet as he carefully negotiated the darkened hallway. The old building was deserted, just as Ling Mai had said it would be. She was the newest member of his 'family' of informants and still a little green around the edges. It was one of the reasons Lee had agreed to handle this assignment himself instead of passing it off to one of the 'Q' agents.

'Take the stairwell in the first room to the left,' Ling Mai had instructed somewhat breathlessly, almost afraid to meet his eye. 'Then proceed to the basement and wait to be contacted.' It had seemed simple enough at the time, but now, in retrospect, it all sounded a little too . . . tidy . . . for his liking. He suddenly found himself wishing they were anywhere but here.

"So, what do the boys have planned for the rest of the weekend?" he asked, needing to break the edgy silence that threatened to smother them.

He heard Amanda sigh. "A quiet night at home, I think. Phillip's girlfriend is with her family in Philadelphia. Don't quote me on this, but I think they're getting pretty serious. And Jamie . . . well, you know how Jamie is. He's never been the social one."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about Jamie," he assured her as he avoided a loose board on one of the steps. "If the stories he told me yesterday are any indication, I'd say our shy little boy has definitely come out of his shell."

"Jamie has stories, huh?" she asked, one hand on his shoulder as she cautiously followed him. "I don't suppose you'd care to elaborate?"

"Strictly 'need to know,' I'm afraid," he replied with a quick laugh. "Let's just say he's taken to his first semester at college even better than we'd hoped."

Their banter stopped abruptly as they reached the bottom of the stairs. At Amanda's nod, they both crept across the threshold, the heavy metal door shutting behind them with a bang. Quickly pulling a flashlight from his pocket, Lee swept the beam over the perimeter of the room. "Looks clear," he told her in a guarded whisper. "I guess we **are** a few minutes early."

"This place gives me the creeps," Amanda stated, her words echoing his thoughts. "Can we risk a light, do you think?"

Lee caught the small kernel of concern in her casual question. "I don't see why not," he replied, directing the flashlight around the room again. His partner's uncharacteristic nervousness was beginning to rub off on him, too. "I don't like this set up," he told her as he expelled a long breath. "There's only one exit. Maybe you should . . ."

"Wait in the car?" she inquired, one eyebrow rising sharply. "In this neighborhood? You've got to be kidding. Besides, I thought you told me Ling Mai's contact would only turn over the information if both of us were present."

"Yeah, that's what she said. But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

He saw a momentary look of look of concern flit across her face, but she banished it like a true professional. "We have backup, Lee," she stated, her voice cool and collected. "If we miss our check-in, Billy will send in the troops. Although, a little light might not be a bad idea."

A frayed cord dangled from the ceiling and he gave it a quick jerk. A lone bulb switched on, illuminating a portion of the room in a strange, eerie glow. Reaching out, he pulled Amanda to him, running his hand across her back – whether to give or gain comfort, he wasn't quite sure. "I don't know if that's any better," he told her, "but you're right, it sure beats standing here in the dark."

She sighed her understanding. "I don't know what's gotten into me this morning."

"Must be all that eggnog of Dotty's you put away yesterday. She did say her secret recipe has been known to produce some dramatic results."

"Oh, it did," his wife rejoined, looking up at him with a sultry smile. "At least, I thought so."

"I thought so, too," he replied, his voice roughening as he allowed his thoughts to dwell for just a minute on the very special Christmas night they'd shared. His wife's responses had been especially passionate, and he'd been forced to remind her more than once that the boys' bedroom wasn't all that far from theirs. Still . . . Lee felt his smile widen as he made a mental note to ask Dotty for that eggnog recipe.

Amanda seemed to read his thoughts. "As much as I love having the boys home for the semester break, it'll be kind of nice when things settle into a routine again. I miss those private moments at the end of the day, just the two of us."

"Me, too, Mrs. Stetson." He flashed her his sexiest grin. "And, speaking of some private time, our anniversary is right around the corner, you know."

"Exactly seven weeks from today." Her expression matched his as she added slyly, "So, what's it going to be, candy or iron?" At his baffled gaze, she elaborated, "Those **are** the traditional gifts for number six, you know."

Lee chuckled softly. "I was thinking more along the lines of a romantic weekend alone, just the two of us."

"What did you have in mind?"

Lee shook his head. "Nope, I want it to be a surprise."

She leaned closer and let her finger trail across his lips. "I have ways of making you talk, you know," she threatened with a little laugh.

His grin widened. "Really? Actually, that might be kind of fun."

"Maybe not as fun as you think." She took a step back and folded her hands across her chest. "I believe the last time you had to sleep on the couch you had a stiff neck for a week."

"Okay, okay," he laughed, throwing his hands up, "if you insist on spoiling my surprise, I'll tell you. I managed to wrangle a couple of tickets to 'Les Mis,' so I thought a trip to New York and . . ."

Amanda's eyes lit up before he could finish the sentence. "We're staying at the Plaza? Oh, Lee!"

He tried to look nonchalant as he nodded. "I'm sure they'd be more than happy to supply some traditional candy for the pillow. As for the iron . . ." Leaning closer, he nudged her affectionately. "I feel confident I can come up with something appropriate."

"Lee!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flaming.

"Okay, okay," he agreed, secretly pleased that he could still cause his wife of almost six years to blush. "I guess we should put this discussion on hold for now." Squaring his shoulders, he glanced at his watch, his expression growing serious as he noted the time. "Where the hell is that contact? Ling Mai said seven o'clock sharp."

"It's only five after. I'm sure Ling Mai's contact will be here soon."

"Maybe." He took a few restless steps then stopped, breathing heavily as he ran his hand through his hair. "I guess this business with Finch and Brody has me a little on edge. I'll be glad when it's finished and done with."

"I know." He felt the gentle touch of her hand on his forearm, even through the heavy fabric of his coat. "But our testimony at the trial next month will finally put an end to the Death Broker's network once and for all."

He nodded. "Sally Wong and John Peters were part of my 'family,' Amanda. I owe them."

"They didn't die in vain, Lee. You've made sure of that this time."

" **We've** made sure of that," he amended, his hand covering hers. "I couldn't have done it without my partner. Nobody can follow a paper trail like you," he added proudly. "You've become one of the best in the business."

He looked down at her, but where her warm smile should have been, he saw only a sharp frown. He felt her grip tighten as she murmured hoarsely, "Do you smell something funny?"

"It's a filthy warehouse, Amanda. Everything in here smells funny." He groaned as she shot him a look. The previous day's celebration had obviously upset her normally unflappable equilibrium and he took a few tentative sniffs to appease her. "I don't smell a thing."

"I should have known better than to ask," she sighed, stuffing her hands in her pockets. "Men have absolutely no sense of smell. It's a proven fact."

Rolling his eyes, he checked out the room again. Other than the few crates stacked haphazardly in the corner, nothing seemed out of order. Still, it never hurt to be thorough; holidays or not, his partner's instincts were usually right on the mark. Switching on the flashlight, he gave her a quick wink of capitulation and moved carefully toward the cluttered corner.

"Lee," Amanda's voice croaked from somewhere far away, "I feel funny." That's when he heard it, the low, raspy hiss from up above. Hand shaking, he aimed the light at the ceiling vents.

"Amanda!" He felt a sharp, twisting pain tear through his ankle as he lunged toward her. "Get out of here!"

It was too late. The last thing he saw before the gas claimed his consciousness was his wife's body slumped in a heap on the floor.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Part One

~~ I ~~

The sounds washed over her as if from a great distance, a pleasantly warm murmur that wrapped itself around her and held her in the darkness. At first nothing more than a blur of noise on the edge of her consciousness, it slowly came into focus, like a radio gradually being tuned to a station's frequency. Voices. That was it . . . she could definitely hear voices.

They became louder and more demanding as they took on a questioning tone. Somebody . . . someone . . . wanted something from her. A wave of sudden panic washed over her – were they trying to get her to divulge information she was supposed to keep secret? And what about Lee? She had a vague sense that he might also be in trouble and wondered if she was supposed to be doing something to help him. Or maybe this whole situation was the result of something she'd already done. Oh, he always got so angry with her when he thought she'd messed up.

She tried to get up but found herself unable to move. Whoever was questioning her had done a thorough job of tying her up. She had no more success when she tried to open her eyes; they must have blindfolded her as well.

A sharp voice cut through the fog clouding her mind. "I'm sorry, but we still haven't been able to determine precisely what drug was used on them. Without that information there's no way to predict exactly what effect it will have."

Drug? Her head throbbed as she tried to sort through the jumble of memories swirling through her mind. Someone had drugged her? No, wait, the voice had said 'them'. So Lee must have been attacked, too.

As she tried again to move her arm, she realized with a shock that she hadn't been tied down at all. It was just that her limbs felt curiously heavy, as if she had been frozen in a block of ice and was only now beginning to thaw out.

"Did you see that?" To Amanda's immense relief the voice that now spoke was unmistakably that of her mother. "I'm sure she moved her fingers." Dotty's voice became louder and Amanda felt a cool, soothing touch as her mother took her by the hand. "Amanda, darling, I'm here. Squeeze my fingers if you can hear me."

Amanda focused her energy on her fingers and concentrated. At last she managed a faint bit of pressure in return before sliding back into the blackness.

She awoke again to find her mother still there, holding her hand and murmuring words of encouragement. How much time had passed? A few minutes? An hour? A day? There was no way of telling. Summoning up all her strength, she was finally able to open her eyes. "Mother," she said hoarsely, struggling to sit up.

"Shh, darling, I'm here." Dotty leaned in and tucked a few pillows behind Amanda's back for support.

"Mother, what . . . where? I can't remember . . ." Amanda shook her head and immediately regretted the move as the vague throbbing behind her temples escalated into full scale pounding. She moaned and sank back down on the bed.

Dotty smoothed down Amanda's hair as if she were still a young child. "Just rest. The doctor said you shouldn't overexert yourself. Now that you're awake again, he'll want to see you." She pressed the call button and waited for the doctor to arrive.

"Look who's decided to join us again." Her doctor was jovially upbeat as he checked Amanda's temperature, pulse and blood pressure and jotted down his findings on her chart.

Dotty watched anxiously throughout his examination, looking visibly relieved when he finished up with a smile and said, "It looks like the worst is over. The lab's still analyzing your blood work, but it looks like you were very lucky." Turning to Dotty, he continued, "Mrs. West, why don't you go home and get some rest yourself. You've been here for hours."

She nodded. "I should let the family know that everything's all right." She gave Amanda's hand one last squeeze and added, "I'm sure the boys will want to come by tonight and see you for themselves, though. Get some rest, darling."

As soon as her mother was out the door, Amanda anxiously inquired, "Doctor, what about . . ." She stopped short, as it suddenly occurred to her that the doctor might not be aware of her connection with the Agency.

His smile quickly put her at ease. "I'll let Mr. Melrose know you've regained consciousness. He'll have plenty of questions for you I'm sure, but I think they can wait until tomorrow morning. And there's an Agency guard posted outside, so you don't have to worry."

"Thank you. But what about . . . Lee Stetson? He was with me." She broke off in confusion. "At least, I think he was." Sinking back down onto her pillow, she let out a long sigh. "I'm sorry, but I'm still not sure exactly what happened."

The doctor nodded. "Don't worry about it; I'm sure this will pass. As for Lee, he woke up about an hour ago and already two nurses on this floor have put in for early retirement. How about I send him down here for a visit after you've had a nap? From what I hear, you've had more luck than anyone in getting around his moods."

She was too tired to manage a laugh but smiled as she drifted off to sleep. That definitely sounded like Lee, all right; the man never changed.

Lee worked his way down the hallway as quickly as he could, given that he was hampered by a pair of crutches. The padding on one of the armpieces slipped down, letting the sharp edge of the wood bite into his armpit. He grimaced slightly and paused long enough to shove the covering back into place. Yet another piece of evidence that the hospital staff was out to get him – not that he'd ever had any doubt on that issue.

He reached Amanda's room and awkwardly shouldered his way through the door. She lay asleep in bed, and he stood there for a moment, quietly contemplating her.

From what Billy had told him over the phone, they'd both been damn lucky. Other than this blasted ankle, apparently they were none the worse for wear. Whatever drug they'd been hit with could have been much more serious.

Amanda stirred slightly in her sleep. Lee watched as she reached out and clutched the edge of the sheet in her hand. She looked so peaceful, almost like a child. Not for the first time, he thought back to the first day they'd met. What had he done to both their lives by asking her for help and dragging her into the Agency?

A rattle at the door interrupted his contemplations. Amanda woke up as a nurse pushed a cart laden with dinner trays into the room.

"And how are we feeling?" the nurse chirped brightly. "Oh, Mr. Stetson, you're here, too. Well, now the two of you can have a nice, cozy dinner together."

There was something about the way she emphasized the word 'cozy' that set off a blip on Lee's internal radar. Frowning, he adjusted that damn padding on his crutch again. It was probably just the standard cheerful nurse routine; it never failed to get on his nerves.

With a parting smile and the suggestion that they enjoy their meals, the nurse wheeled out the cart and closed the door. Lee lowered himself onto the chair next to Amanda's bed.

"If they really want us to be getting well," he groused, "they shouldn't be allowed to feed us this slop." He poked at a lump of pastry, scowling at the bit of beef broth that oozed out.

"I know it's not exactly a home cooked meal, but they do try their best." Amanda yawned, sat up and began investigating the contents of her dinner tray. "Besides, you may be glad to have something to eat later. And Beef Wellington's good cold, too." She paused, holding her fork motionless in midair for a moment as a look of bewilderment flitted over her face.

The sound of Lee dropping his crutches to the floor diverted her attention from whatever had been bothering her. "What happened to your leg?" she asked him, taking a sip of juice.

"I'm not really sure." He replaced the cover over his meal and pushed the dinner tray as far away as possible. "They think I must have twisted my ankle when I . . . we . . . you . . ." He exhaled a long sigh of exasperation. "I'm still not sure what the hell happed to the two of us. How much do you remember?"

"Not much at all." She looked at him with an odd expression on her face, almost as if she was seeing him for the first time. Closing her eyes, she continued, "Every time I try to concentrate, my headache just gets worse."

Lee nodded. "Same here. Hopefully we'll be a little more clear-headed tomorrow morning when Billy stops by."

"I hope so." Amanda stopped picking at her dinner and lay back. "I hate this feeling of not knowing exactly what's going on."

Lee exhaled loudly again. "You and me both."

She glanced at the clock. "I wonder when evening visiting hours start. Mother said she was bringing the boys to see me tonight."

Lee reluctantly reached for his crutches and stood up. "I'll head back to my room then and give you some privacy."

She gave him a weak smile. "Good night, Lee. Try to get some rest."

He nodded and paused for a moment. There was that feeling again, that he was missing something. Was there something he was supposed to do that he was forgetting? Damn, this fuzzy, drugged feeling had him questioning his own instincts now. "Night, Amanda," he mumbled quickly and headed out the door.

The feeling of unease wouldn't leave him, and he hobbled his way down the hallway past his room to the end of the corridor and back again. Pacing wasn't an activity that was made any easier by being on crutches, but it was infinitely preferable to lying in bed.

On his third pass down the hall, he noticed the vending machine at the door to the small alcove labeled "Visitors' Lounge". After caging some change from the Agency guard, he headed back. Maybe a quick infusion of calories and chocolate was what he needed to kick-start his brain.

He scanned the rows of candy bars standing stiffly at attention in their metal brackets, finally settling on a Chewy Chubby bar. Shaking his head, he thought of the time Amanda had 'smuggled' one into another hospital for him. His smile faded as he caught sight of the price. Good God, that was highway robbery! Hospitals must have taken a cue from airports and decided to extort funds from a captive clientele. Small wonder he loathed the places.

"I think it's down this way."

"That's only because you can't follow directions. If you hadn't been flirting with that nurse you would have heard the orderly say that we had to turn right after we got out of the elevator."

Lee looked up as two young men came down the hallway. He took a step further into the alcove to give them enough room to pass.

As they drew closer they caught sight of him leaning against the doorframe. He nodded a polite greeting and turned back to the candy machine, only to have the younger one unexpectedly call out his name. "Lee! We didn't think you'd be up and around."

The taller one laughed and added, "Yeah, but we might have known they'd have had to tie you in bed to get you to rest."

"Uh, I wanted a snack." Lee was a bit taken back by their enthusiastic greetings. They both seemed vaguely familiar, but for the life of him, he couldn't quite place either one. Surely the Agency couldn't be recruiting them that young, but . . . who else would know him here?

"We'll see you in a few minutes then." The older one took a playful swipe at his shoulder then the two of them continued down the hall.

Lee watched them for a few seconds before turning back to the vending machine. Balancing precariously on one crutch, he inserted a quarter into the slot. There was a dull clinking sound and it immediately reappeared in the coin return. He picked up the quarter, reinserted it but with no more luck. Lee sighed. Absolutely nothing was going his way today. He retrieved the coin again and inspected it more closely.

"What the hell?" He stood there staring at it stupidly for a moment then whirled around as quickly as his crutches would allow. At the far end of the hallway he caught a glimpse of the two young men entering Amanda's room. "This is impossible," he muttered and headed down the hall at his fastest hobble.

"Mom, Mom, are you okay?"

Amanda opened her eyes at the anxious tone of Jamie's voice. At least it sounded like Jamie. But this wasn't . . . couldn't be Jamie. Jamie was only . . . She closed her eyes again.

"I'm getting your doctor." She heard him hurry across the room and open the door.

"Mom, maybe you should have something to drink. You don't look so good." Now it was the tall young man who bore an amazing resemblance to Phillip who was anxiously hovering over her, holding out a glass of water.

"I . . . you . . ." she faltered. Jamie returned, without the doctor but at least accompanied by a familiar face.

"Lee," she greeted him in relief. "Lee, what's going on here?"

"I'm not sure." He hurried over to her bed and reached for her hand. "Take a look at this."

"A quarter?" she asked, puzzled.

"Look at the date."

"Oh my gosh." She sat bolt upright in bed. "1992. Lee, this says 1992." She looked into his eyes, seeing in their hazel depths the same confusion and disorientation she felt.

"Lee, what's going on?" Phillip asked. "Why is that such a big deal?"

Lee turned to the boys, no, young men. "Uh, could you fellas give us a moment please?"

"Sure." They exchanged worried glances but headed out the door. Jamie turned back for a minute. "I almost forgot, Emily sent this along and made me promise to give it to you the minute I saw you." With one last puzzled look, he and Phillip went into the hall.

Amanda raised her eyes to Lee. "How long have we known each other?" she asked slowly, a nagging fear growing in the pit of her stomach. For the first time she noticed a few tiny wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, as well as an oddly mature look about him that didn't quite sit right with her.

"Seven weeks," he said promptly, "and four days. Or at least that's what I thought until a few minutes ago." He gestured towards the coin she still clutched between her fingers. "Now I'm not so sure."

"And who's Emily?" She reached out and tentatively fingered the envelope Jamie had placed on her bedside table.

Lee shrugged. "Only Emily I know is a British agent. Why would she be sending us a message here?" He picked up the envelope and ripped it open.

"There has to be something with the date on it somewhere," Amanda muttered to herself as she scanned the room. Catching sight of the clipboard hanging at the foot of her bed, she quickly retrieved it.

"Amanda." She looked up at the strangled tone of Lee's voice.

"Lee, what's wrong?" He looked as if he had been on the receiving end of a sharp blow to the stomach. Swaying slightly, he let his crutches slip out of his grasp and clatter noisily onto the floor. Amanda reached out and grabbed Lee by the arm, easing him onto the bed. "Lee," she shook him anxiously, "what is it?"

Wordlessly, he handed over a single sheet of paper. Amanda frowned as she quickly scanned it over. Crayon? Why would a British agent write a message in crayon? Her eyes widened as she took in the childish scrawl. "Mommy and Daddy, I miss you! Please come home soon."

Mommy and Daddy. Mommy and Daddy. Oh my gosh. No, it wasn't possible. She dropped the paper onto her bed where it landed, obscuring the lower half of her medical chart. Her chart. But . . . that wasn't her name at the top. It said . . .

Amanda clutched at Lee's arm and pointed at the clipboard. In sharp, precise writing the top line read: Amanda . . . Stetson.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

~~ II ~~

"Good morning, Mr. Stetson," the nurse greeted him. "And how are we this morning?"

" **We** are just fine, thank you," he grumbled. After two days in this place, he'd had more than his fill of encouragement from the happy hospital personnel.

"Well, I have good news this morning. No more crutches." The ridiculous nurse seemed so pleased with her announcement, you'd think she was the one hobbling around on those things, Lee thought as she handed him a cane. "Now, don't overdo it," the woman whose name actually appeared to be 'Florence' advised as she left him with a wave and a smile.

As soon as the door swung shut, Lee hopped off his hospital bed and gingerly put some weight on his foot. Still painful, but definitely improving. Too bad he couldn't say the same for his memory. Groaning in frustration, he limped in the direction of the door. Bum ankle or not, he was through sitting.

"Whoa, Scarecrow. Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"I was just . . ." Lee let out a frustrated sigh. In point of fact, he had no idea where he was headed. Just some place . . . any place . . . away from this damned hospital and the waking nightmare in which he'd found himself.

He let Billy Melrose usher him back into the room. "You need to follow the doctor's orders and stay off that foot. I've heard nothing but complaints about you from the staff on this floor."

"That's because the head nurse is nothing but a big battle-axe, Billy," he grumbled, plopping down into the chair. "I think the woman gets her jollies torturing poor, helpless patients." Holding the cane with both hands, he beat it restlessly against the floor. "At least she won't have me to torment any more – I'm being discharged today. I **am** being discharged, right?" he demanded as Billy frowned.

"Dr. McJohn . . ."

"Aw, come on. McJohn can't possibly want to do any more tests. He's already turned my body into a pincushion."

"No, his tests are concluded. For now."

Lee watched Billy's face cloud over. Hands thrust into his pockets, his boss began to wear a path between the bed and the door. The news must be bad, then. Billy hadn't paced like that since the botched hand-off in Munich.

"So, what's the verdict, Billy?" he asked, masking his concern beneath the casually phrased words.

His boss paused just long enough to engage his eye. "Dr. McJohn should be here in a minute with Amanda. I'd rather let him brief you both at the same time."

Lee frowned. Brief? Amanda? Sure, they'd worked a few cases together, but only out of necessity. I mean, she was just a housewife from Arlington . . . **his** housewife, evidently. Damn, it was hot in here, he thought distractedly. Why did hospitals have to turn up the thermostat so damned high?

He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "Uh, how is she today?"

"About as confused as you are, I imagine," his friend replied in a low voice.

Lee merely nodded as feelings of guilt washed over him. He really should have gone to see Amanda yesterday, but McJohn and the Agency med team had kept him hopping with all the tests, and . . . No, that wasn't the reason and he knew it. He was just too much of a coward to face her.

"We've been married for almost six years?" Lee asked incredulously, still trying to process the information Billy had given him in response to his frantic phone call two nights earlier. The sudden question must have sounded as if it came from left field, but his mind was still so very scattered.

Billy didn't seem to notice. "This coming February," he assured him again with a grin.

Lee shook his head in bewilderment. Partners, Billy had said. The best damn team in the business . . . He tried to make sense of it, but the words had no meaning in the context of his life. His life . . .

"And we have a child," he stated flatly, more to himself than Billy.

"Yes, a beautiful little girl. Who also happens to be my goddaughter."

A daughter . . . Lee drew a deep breath. Every time he closed his eyes, the image of those stick figures drawn with short, childlike strokes popped into his head. Mommy and Daddy . . .

Mommy and Daddy . . . maybe that explained it.

He pushed up out of the chair, leaning on his cane as he walked slowly towards the door. Blowing out a short breath, he turned back to face his boss and friend. "Uh, Billy . . . Amanda and I . . . did we . . . I mean . . ." Licking his lips, he tried again. "Did we get married because we had . . ."

"Ahh-hem."

Lee shot a quick glance over his shoulder.

"Amanda," he heard Billy say a little too jovially. "We were just wondering when you were going to get here."

"Yes, sir," she said, thrusting her hands in her pockets as she walked into the room. The small hospital room didn't offer many seating options, but she deliberately crossed over to the chair furthest from Lee, refusing to make any eye contact with him. Anger bubbled up inside her and she struggled to keep a lid on it. Lee's unfinished question galled her. Had to get married . . . of course he would think that. He might be nine years older than the Lee Stetson she remembered, but he was still one of the rudest men she knew.

She still couldn't believe they had a child together. A little girl . . .

Amanda turned her head towards the window. After her divorce from Joe was finalized, she hadn't even considered the possibility of having another child. But hearing that she had a daughter awakened an old longing deep within. When she'd spoken to her mother on the phone yesterday, she'd had a million questions about Emily. There were so many things she wanted to know. What was Emily like? Did her little girl resemble her or . . . her eyes drifted involuntarily in Lee's direction.

He avoided her gaze, instead turning to the uniformed man who'd collected her from her room. "So, what's the verdict, Doc?" he asked flippantly.

"Go ahead, McJohn," she heard Billy Melrose say, his voice a little too loud as he frowned at Lee. "I'm sure Lee and Amanda are both anxious to hear the results of their tests.

McJohn cleared his throat. "Yes. Well, the preliminary tests results are in . . ."

"Yeah, we gathered that," Lee interrupted, not a little abruptly. "Cut to the chase, Major . . ."

"That's Colonel, Scarecrow," the man corrected with a flat smile.

"Colonel," Lee repeated, his voice suddenly subdued. Amanda shot him a smile of sympathy.

"It looks as if you were hit with something called XP-15," McJohn began, a slight frown forming as he consulted his notes. "It's a gas, still in the experimental stages. Russian in origin, but this particular strain seems to have been modified to its present form by the Iranians. We've heard rumblings about it but we've never seen the effects . . . until now."

Lee leaned heavily on his cane. "Are you telling me . . ."

"Yes," McJohn said, looking from Billy to Lee. "Exactly."

Amanda rose slowly from her chair. "Excuse me," she began, "I don't mean to be rude, but would somebody mind telling me what it is everybody else seems to know?"

Sighing, Lee ran a hand slowly through his hair. "It means that they don't have the antidote, Amanda," he said, exasperation running though his tone. "Isn't that right, McJohn?"

"Yes. We're working on it, but . . ."

"Oh my gosh!" Amanda exclaimed as the man let out a sigh. "Are you saying that this . . . this blank spot in our memories . . . it could be . . . well, permanent?"

McJohn shifted his weight uncomfortably. "You could perhaps recover spots of memory spontaneously . . . in time. Or perhaps not. I wish I could be more specific, Mrs. Stetson."

Amanda saw Lee's surprised start at the use of that name. Mrs. Stetson . . . Oh my gosh . . . She forced herself to concentrate on Dr. McJohn's words.

"Of course, we'll be working around the clock to reconstruct the exact formulation of the XP-15 gas used on you and Scarecrow," the man was saying. "From there, it should be a short step to the antidote."

"That doesn't sound too difficult," Lee said, his voice sounding almost hopeful.

McJohn sighed. "It's a tricky process, Scarecrow. This gas has a very complex makeup – there are hundreds of different permutations. If the formulation is even a shade off, we couldn't guarantee the results of the antidote. It could take some time." He turned to William Melrose. "This puts a definite crimp in the Justice Department's plans."

"Yes. There's no way they'll be able to testify now." Bringing his hands to his face, Billy shook his head. "No doubt what Brody and Finch were counting on."

"Billy," Lee said, casting a look in Amanda's direction. He looked thoroughly annoyed. "What . . ."

"Brody. Alias the Deathbroker. And that's exactly what he is. A professional middleman. He's arranged assassinations, arms sales – you name it, he's dealt with it. You two helped put him away back in '85, but, unfortunately, he escaped from prison in the spring of '87 and reactivated his network."

"And that's when Lee and I put him out of commission?" Amanda asked, her voice oddly still.

Billy looked down at the floor. "Ah, no. Francine worked with Lee on that particular case."

Lee frowned. "But I thought you said Amanda and I were partners."

"You were . . . you are. But Amanda was, uh, sidelined temporarily at the time." Billy cleared his throat then continued. "This past September, Brody's network reappeared again, this time run by a man named Finch – Brody's heir apparent. But thanks to the efforts of the Q-Section – and the two of you - he didn't get very far. Your testimony at Finch's trial would have pounded the final nail in that network's coffin. Now . . ." Billy sighed. "The attack more than likely came from that quarter."

Lee nodded. "Well, at least it gives me a place to start."

Before Amanda could open her mouth to protest, a nurse came into the room. "I have your discharge papers, Mr. and Mrs. Stetson. And the personal effects that were removed when you entered the hospital."

"Personal effects?" she asked, confused.

"You know, watches, jewelry, valuables, things like that. It's hospital policy." She handed them each a small manila envelope.

"Only thing I need back is my watch," Lee grumbled as he slid open the sealed packet. "I don't wear jewelry."

As if on autopilot, Amanda opened the small envelope, emptying its contents into the palm of her hand. A sleek gold watch and a small diamond tennis bracelet tumbled out, along with a plain gold band and a large diamond solitaire, its facets sparkling as they caught the light. The ring had a Tiffany setting . . . her favorite. Swallowing hard, she looked over at Lee.

He held a gold wedding band between his fingers, his eyebrows rising as he stared. It was a perfect mate to hers. "Beautiful, aren't they," she whispered softly to herself. Her face scrunched into a puzzled frown. Where had that thought come from?

"Come on, Lee, Amanda," she heard Billy say, his words thudding through the silence. "The Agency car is waiting. Let's get you home."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

~~ III ~~

The dull grey clouds covering the sky were a perfect match to Lee's mood. He leaned against the cool glass of the car window and watched M Street's bars and shops sliding quickly by. The hum of the tires against the roadway rose an octave as they crossed the Key Bridge and headed into Virginia.

Amanda let out a small sigh, and he stole a glance at the woman sitting beside him. She hadn't said a word since they'd left the hospital. Instead, she'd stared moodily through the plexi-glass that separated them from the Agency driver Billy had assigned to take them home.

Home. Even the word sounded foreign to him.

Nervously he clutched the head of his cane, its smooth surface slick between his slightly sweaty hands. This was crazy. Here he was, sitting beside a woman he barely knew, a woman who was supposed to be his . . . his wife.

He ran his right hand over the still bare fingers of his left. Every time the car turned a corner, he could feel the edges of the ring he'd stuffed into his pocket pressing into his leg. Apparently Amanda hadn't felt any more comfortable than he, as she'd quickly stowed the envelope and its contents in her purse.

The silence stretching out between them was finally interrupted by the driver. "We'll be home soon, Mr. and Mrs. Stetson. I bet you'll be glad to get something besides hospital food."

Lee flinched involuntarily at the careless words. Mr. and Mrs. Stetson. Home. Home was a small apartment in a brownstone building in Georgetown. It most certainly was not a house encircled by a white picket fence in the suburbs of Virginia.

"Yes, thank you," he said to the driver, quickly reaching out and shutting off the intercom. The last thing he wanted to do right now was make small talk.

"Emily's birthday is December 15th," Amanda said stiffly. "In case you're interested. I had a long talk with Mother yesterday afternoon."

"What?" he asked, startled and vainly trying to follow her line of thought.

"Back in the hospital you were wondering why we got married," she continued in the same brittle tone. "Emily was born ten months after our wedding, so your theory doesn't hold water." She turned her head to the window, apparently fascinated by the piles of half melted snow and slush lining the roadway.

"Amanda." She didn't turn around. "Amanda, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I was just trying to make sense of everything. Look, I know this isn't easy for you, either. But at least you're going home to a place you remember. Last I knew I was a bachelor living in an apartment in Georgetown." He gestured as the buildings of D.C. rapidly receded into the distance. "But now suddenly I'm going home to two step-sons, a mother-in-law and a daughter."

"A daughter," she echoed turning back towards him. Her expression softened. "I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and find this is all a dream."

"Me, too." He sighed. "I'm not sure I can do this."

She reached out and put a tentative hand on his arm. "Of course you can," she said. "You're one of the 'top agents in the country', remember. I thought nothing scared you." She smiled, breaking the tension at last. "I seem to remember you coped with Alexi just fine."

"God, that feels like just the other week." He shook his head. "This is unbelievable."

"I know." There was a faint tremor in her voice.

"It's going to be okay, Amanda." He tried to inject considerably more confidence into his voice than he actually felt. If she could play along with this, then so could he. "Dr. McJohn'll have an antidote for us in no time."

"And then we'll remember that we're a happily married couple." The words died on her lips as their eyes met. "Somehow that doesn't feel all that reassuring."

They turned the corner onto Maplewood Drive. Lee licked his lips, his mouth suddenly as dry as the Sahara. "Maybe I shouldn't stay at the house," he said hoarsely. "I could go back to the Agency and have Billy set me up in a safe house or something."

His words trailed off as the car pulled to a stop in front of Amanda's house. Their house, he mentally corrected himself, but the words made no sense at all.

Feeling the driver's impatient stare, he got out of the car and stretched stiffly to work the kinks out of his leg. From somewhere not too far away he could hear the sound of a dog barking and children shouting. Dogs . . . children . . . suburbia . . . the collar on his shirt suddenly seemed a little too tight. "Amanda," he began again, his voice taking on a note of desperation, "I really think I should . . ."

The front door opened abruptly as if someone had been watching for their arrival. A small brown haired missile hurtled over the lawn towards them.

"Daddy!" The young girl flung herself against his sore leg, causing him to wince in pain.

He watched wide-eyed as Amanda hurried around the car, stooped down and scooped up the child. The little girl buried her face against her mother's neck. "Mommy, I missed you so much."

"I missed you, too." Amanda hugged her tightly.

Amazing. Amanda seemed to have developed an instant bond with the child, while he felt like an astronaut who had set foot on another planet.

Before either of them could say anything else, Emily twisted in Amanda's grasp and threw her arms around Lee's neck, pulling him close enough for a kiss. "Daddy, Daddy," she murmured as Lee and Amanda's eyes met over the tousled brown curls of their daughter's hair.

*SMK*SMK*SMK*SMK*SMK*

"Lee, dear, are you sure I can't get you something else to eat?"

"No, thanks, Mrs. . . . uh, Dotty," he quickly corrected, his face flushing slightly at his gaffe. He sent a nervous smile in her mother's direction. "I couldn't eat another bite."

Amanda looked at the remains of the dinner feast spread out across the coffee table. At Emily's insistence, they were having a picnic in the den. She wasn't sure if she was breaking some hard-and-fast house rule or not, but when she'd caught sight of the look on Emily's face when she begged to eat in here instead of at the dining room table, Amanda didn't have the heart to say no.

Lee seemed to find the impromptu party a welcome relief. Not only had he managed to pack away two helpings of pot roast and an enormous serving of mashed potatoes, but he'd also topped it off with a huge slice of poppyseed cake. He'd evidently come to the conclusion that eating was the better part of valor – if his mouth was full, he couldn't be expected to talk.

"You've hardly touched your food, darling."

Amanda looked up into her mother's sympathetic eyes.

"Well, it'll keep until later," Dotty continued, removing her plate. She placed it on top of Lee's and headed into the kitchen. "I'll just finish up these dishes."

"I'll help you, Mother." Amanda quickly got up, hoping her eagerness to get out of the room wasn't too apparent.

"No, no," Dotty insisted. "You just got home from the . . . you just got home," she quickly amended, her eyes resting on Emily. "You sit and relax a bit."

Amanda sank back into the chair. Relax. If only she could.

"Mom, I promised a few of the guys I'd meet them for a quick game of basketball. Is it okay?"

"Sure, sweetheart," she said without thinking.

"Then I can take the Jeep?"

The Jeep? Startled, Amanda looked up into Jamie's clear blue eyes. He was standing by her chair, expectantly holding the car keys. The car keys . . . her baby was holding the car keys. She shook herself lightly. Of course he wouldn't be riding his bike; he wasn't eight years old anymore. And he wasn't her baby, either. Her 'baby' was sitting cross-legged on the floor by her father's knee, holding court with three dolls and a host of rubber ponies with long, flowing manes.

"Is it okay?" Jamie asked again. "I know the car's new, but I'll be careful, I promise."

She heard Phillip's ready laugh. "I'll go with him, Mom, you don't have to worry."

She shot a quick glance at Lee, who looked as confused as she felt. "No, it's fine. Sure, you can take the, uh, Jeep."

"'I'll go with him,'" she heard Jamie mimic sarcastically as he and Phillip headed out the door. "As if **I** was the one who dented Lee's 'Vette . . ."

She saw Lee's eyes widen; he'd obviously overheard the comment. He'd had a Corvette? What happened to that Porsche he'd always been so fond of? Oh, my gosh . . . maybe one of her boys had finished that car off, too. Driving, both of them . . . she bit her lip. At least Phillip and Jamie were old enough to understand what had happened to them. But Emily was practically a baby.

"Look, Daddy." She saw Lee stiffen as Emily crawled up on the sofa beside him, a Barbie doll clutched in her hand. Her tiny face broke out in a grin that looked remarkably like Lee's as she began to walk the doll up and down her father's leg. Lee shifted uneasily in his seat. Without saying a word, he took hold of the doll's plastic head and guided Emily's hand away from him toward the sofa.

Emily seemed unfazed. She held the doll up in front of Lee's face and pressed a chubby finger into its back. "You look so cool," Barbie exclaimed in appropriately canned tones.

As Amanda fought to hold in her snicker, Lee shot her a pained look. Ignoring him, she moved over to sit beside her daughter on the sofa. "What is that, sweetheart?"

"It's 'Teen Talk Barbie,' Mommy," Emily answered with a roll of her hazel eyes. "You know that."

"Of course I do," she quickly parried. Amanda thought back to the large collection of dolls she'd had as a child. "You just have so many dolls, it's hard to keep track."

Emily nodded solemnly. "She's my favorite. She's only five days old. Daddy gave her to me for Christmas."

Amanda bit her lip as she watched her small daughter prance the voluptuous doll across the sofa. Of course 'Daddy' gave it to her. It bore an uncanny resemblance to that girl he'd been dating.

"Come on, Em," Dotty called as she suddenly reappeared in the den. "You've had a lot of excitement today; I think maybe it's time for bed."

Her tiny forehead scrunched up into thunderous frown. "I'm not tired, Gramma, really I'm not."

Amanda caught her mother's eye. "She was up at the crack of dawn this morning," Dotty quickly explained, including Lee in her glance, "waiting for the two of you. Tell you what," she continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as she reached for Emily's hand. "If you hop into bed early for the next couple of nights like Grandma's good girl, I'll bet Mommy and Daddy will let you stay up on Thursday to see in the New Year."

Emily tilted her head for a moment as she considered this. "Okay. And then I can see the big ball drop. 'Night, Mommy, 'night, Daddy," she cried, bestowing a big hug on both of them before she jumped off the sofa and bounded toward the stairs. Dotty followed quickly, leaving a heavy silence in her wake.

Amanda let out a deep breath as she glanced at Lee. "Emily's really something, isn't she?"

"Yeah," he said, his fingers toying with the edge of the small sofa pillow. Abruptly he stood up and grabbed his cane. "I need some air."

Amanda frowned as she followed him into the hall. "Are you still thinking of going to that safe house?" She couldn't help but wonder which answer she'd rather hear. Either way was bound to be . . . unsettling.

Shouldering into his jacket, Lee pulled up the zipper with deliberate care. "No," he said at last, his eyes drifting up the staircase that Emily had just climbed. For a moment his face took on a slightly wistful expression. "No," he repeated, sobering again as he looked at her. "I'm just . . . going for a walk."

Flashing her a tight smile, he turned and hobbled out the door.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

~~ IV ~~

Lee was halfway through his second cup of coffee the next morning when he heard the soft padding of footsteps come down the stairs and into the kitchen. He determinedly ignored the sound and held up the sports section a little higher. Maybe she would just go back upstairs.

"Daddy, I'm hungry."

"Why don't you go find Amanda, uh . . . Mommy," he suggested, tightening his grip on the paper.

"Mommy's not up yet." She tugged at his sleeve.

"Uh, okay." Slowly he lowered his barricade and looked at Emily. A floppy toy bunny was slung over her arm and she was wearing a pair of pajama pants along with a sweatshirt emblazoned with 'Penn State Future Graduate', undoubtedly a present from Phillip. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Can I have cake?" she asked hopefully, looking at the crumbs of poppyseed cake remaining on his plate.

Lee was pretty sure Amanda would frown on his giving a child cake for breakfast. "How about you have some cereal and juice first?" he suggested.

"Okay." She sat down on a chair and looked at him expectantly.

Lee got up and started searching the cupboards. Peanut butter, flour, marshmallows, spices . . . "Where the hell is the cereal?" he muttered quietly to himself. Not quietly enough, though.

"Dad-dy," he heard Emily say, drawing out the word in a reproachful tone. "You're not supposed to say that. Mommy says that's a bad word."

"Uh, Mommy's right."

Emily let out a sigh. "Mommy's always right."

"Yeah. But sometimes daddies use words like that." He found the right cupboard at last and took out the box of Oaties. After locating a cereal bowl and spoon, he poured out a helping, got the milk from the refrigerator and carried everything over to the table.

"I need my blue bowl," Emily said. "The one with the picture of Snow White on the bottom."

Snow White . . . Good God. This just got worse and worse. "I don't know where your blue bowl is," he said with a groan. "Couldn't you eat from this one?" He gave her what he hoped was an encouraging grin.

Her lower lip stuck out. "I **always** have my cereal in the blue bowl," she persisted.

Lee sighed. Undoubtedly this stubborn streak was something the child had inherited from Amanda. "Okay, let me see if I can find it."

At the end of another five minutes of searching, Lee finally found the bowl in the dishwasher. He quickly washed and dried it, transferred Emily's cereal from the other bowl and added milk. He was thankful beyond words when she quietly began eating her breakfast. Picking up the newspaper again, he had read no more than two sentences before being interrupted again.

"Daddy."

"Yes, Emily." Why didn't Amanda or Dotty or one of the boys make an appearance? Yesterday he'd wanted nothing more than to be left alone, but now he desperately hoped for someone, anyone, to rescue him.

"Did you sleep on the couch?"

"Yes." He folded down one corner of the paper and looked over to where the blanket and pillow Amanda had left for him lay draped over the couch. At least he assumed she was the one who had put them out. By the time he had returned from his walk, the house was dark. He had been infinitely relieved to find the bedding along with pajamas and a fresh change of clothes set out for him. He had been in no hurry to go upstairs to 'their' bedroom.

Emily was watching him with a perplexed expression, her foot beating impatiently against the rung of the chair. "Why?"

"My ankle was still hurting," Lee improvised quickly. "So I couldn't climb up the stairs."

"Oh." Emily thought about this for a moment. "Then you should get Mommy to kiss it better," she remarked matter of factly before turning back to her cereal.

Lee shook his head. Things were so simple when you were only five years old.

Five years old. He sighed. The fates were just having a field day at his expense. Not only did he have a wife he barely knew and a daughter he didn't remember anything about, but of course she would be five years old.

He thought back to the previous morning – Emily had been overjoyed to see her parents again after their absence of just a couple of days. How he would have loved to have had her experience, to see his own parents walk back in through the door. So how could he even consider walking out on his family? Even if they didn't feel exactly like his family at the moment.

Emily tugged on his arm, interrupting his train of thought. "Daddy," she said, climbing up into his lap without so much as an invitation, "read me the comics."

**SMK**SMK**SMK**

Amanda paused at the top of the stairs. Part of her wanted to turn around and hide in her room all day, but then again, it didn't really feel like her room anymore. She had hurried up the stairs the night before, expecting to find it a refuge from all the uncertainty around her. Instead it had made her feel more unsettled than ever. Some of the furniture was different than she remembered, half her closet was taken up by suits, and the cabinet in her bathroom now held a razor, shaving cream and after shave as well as her own toiletries.

She rubbed her tired eyes and continued down. She'd lain awake for hours, tossing and turning. The empty pillow beside her was a mocking reminder that normally two people shared the bed.

Sometime around eleven she'd heard the boys' noisy entrance and their laughter over some private joke as they'd gone to their room. Much later, Lee had returned, and she'd held her breath, wondering if he would come upstairs.

"Okay, so then Charlie Brown says . . ."

Amanda stopped at the foot of the stairs. What on earth?

Walking into the kitchen, she paused again at the unusual sight of Lee Stetson, counter-intelligence agent and master spy, scourge of the KGB, reading 'Peanuts' to his daughter, who was perched cozily on his knee.

"Good morning," Amanda said, once she could trust her voice not to shake with laughter.

"Good morning, Mommy." Emily jumped off Lee's lap and rushed over for a kiss. "Daddy was reading me the comics."

"So I heard." Still trying not to laugh, she poured herself a cup of coffee.

Lee got up, too. "I thought I'd head into the office this morning. See if Billy has anymore news about the antidote."

Amanda watched in silence as he picked up the car keys, awkwardly reached out and tousled Emily's hair and headed out the back door.

"Morning, Lee, bye, Lee," Dotty greeted him as they passed in the doorway. Her brows shot up as she looked in Amanda's direction. "Where's he going in such a hurry?"

"The office." She turned away and busied herself adding sugar and milk to her coffee.

"And what about you?"

"Me?" Amanda faced her mother in surprise. "What about me?"

Dotty folded her arms across her chest. "Mr. Melrose didn't fire you the other day, did he?" she queried.

"Well, no, but he didn't call and say they needed me there."

"He doesn't any other mornings, either." Dotty looked levelly at her daughter. "Amanda, you work there full-time. You belong at the Agency just as much as Lee. Now don't worry about Emily, I'll take care of her today. We're going to go grocery shopping for New Year's Eve dinner. So hurry up, Missy, before your ride leaves without you."

Pausing to give her mother a hug, Amanda snatched up her purse and hurried out the door.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

~~ V ~~

Lee edged the sleek, black BMW convertible down the street. It had to be around here somewhere . . . surely the Agency wouldn't have let them build a four-story apartment building on the site of their parking lot without securing somewhere else for personnel to park.

"You missed the turn."

He shot a glance in Amanda's direction. She hadn't said two words since that . . . discussion . . . on her front lawn when she insisted on coming into work with him.

"Right back there," she explained in a scrupulously patient voice, almost as if she was talking to a small child. "There's a short drive leading to a garage door. You've driven past it twice."

Scowling, he slammed on the brakes and shifted into reverse, backing up the few feet to the driveway. She was right – he **had** driven right by it.

"I guess it's a good thing there isn't much traffic this morning," she remarked as the door sprang open. A uniformed guard waved them past.

"I don't suppose you happen to know where we're supposed to park," he muttered as he looked at the rows of numbered spaces.

"I'll let you figure it out. I mean, you **have** had all that training and all." Her lips curved up into a smile. "At least, that's what you told me back at the house."

Stemming the host of biting retorts that sprang to mind, he quickly pulled into the nearest spot. This really wasn't turning out to be his day. First he'd been forced to shave and shower in a strange bathroom, then put on clothes someone else had picked out for him that he didn't remember buying. Not to mention being given the third degree at breakfast about his sleeping habits. He sighed softly at the recollection; Emily sure was one persistent little interrogator.

"You okay?" Amanda asked as she met him on the other side of the car.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." He quickly snapped his frown back into place. "Let's go."

Nodding, she quietly handed him the keys he'd left in the ignition. They walked together towards the door in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. He fervently hoped that there would be good news waiting for them. Dr. McJohn had to come up with an antidote. He hated feeling like a stranger in his own life.

"Good morning, Mrs. Marston," Amanda greeted in a pleasant voice.

The woman eyes them coolly. "Mr. and Mrs. Stetson."

Out of the corner of his eye, Lee saw Amanda flinch. He let out a sigh. She must be feeling the same disorientation that plagued him. Pushing the thought aside, he concentrated on the stern receptionist. She seemed to be waiting for something.

"Ah, good morning," he mumbled, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

The woman nodded back at him without speaking.

"Is Mr. Melrose in the building?"

Still no answer. He was about to demand his I.D. when he felt Amanda's hand on his arm. "Lee," she whispered hoarsely. "The password."

He let out an exasperated breath. The password. Of course. It was . . . no, wait, that wouldn't be right. Lee groaned; the only password he remembered was hopelessly out of date.

Sidling up to the stony-faced woman, he gave her his brightest smile. "Mrs. Marston," he began laying in the charm. "It really is a good morning, isn't it? And is that a new dress? Blue is a wonderful color on you."

"That's not going to work, Lee," he heard Amanda whisper. "Just make the call."

Ignoring her, he tried again. "Surely Mr. Melrose briefed you on what happened. I'm sure he won't mind if you break the rules just this once and let us through."

Never cracking a smile, the woman pushed the phone in his direction. "Make the call, Lee," Amanda urged again, "before it's time to go home."

"Mrs. Marston . . ."

"Oh, honestly," Amanda grumbled, reaching for the phone. "And you call **me** stubborn." Her foot tapped sharply on the floor as she dialed. "Hello, Mr. Melrose," he heard her say. "It's Amanda . . . yes . . . yes, we're both here . . . yes, thank you, sir." Replacing the phone in its cradle, she turned to Mrs. Marston. "The password is . . . 'memory bank'," she said, looking at Lee with a faint smile.

Suddenly all efficiency, the woman handed a badge to Amanda then turned to Lee. "And thank you, Scarecrow," she told him with a grin as she gave him his I.D. "This is a new dress."

Giving her a weak smile, he started for the elevator. "Mr. Melrose is finishing up a meeting," Amanda informed him as he jammed his finger on the button. "He said he'd meet us in our office in ten minutes."

He nodded then cast a speculative eye in her direction. The morning had gotten off to an inauspicious start, but he might still be able to salvage something. "Amanda," he began, "you really don't have to be here." As her face clouded over, he added, "I'm sure there're a million things you have to do at home. And Emily must need you," he continued as her frown became a scowl. "I know you want to spend some time with her while she's still on vacation . . ."

His words sputtered off as the oddest feeling of déjà vu swept over him. Shaking it off, he stepped into the open elevator. "I'll see you later."

"But Lee . . ."

He looked down at the ground to avoid her eye. For some reason, he suddenly felt inordinately guilty for trying to ditch her.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Stetson," he heard the intractable Mrs. Marston state as the elevator doors snapped closed. "Your office is upstairs."

~ ~ SMK ~ ~

Amanda leaned back in her chair, one eye on the desk that sat kitty-corner from hers. She shook her head, trying to make sense of it all. 'Film Library,' the sign on the door read. When had the Agency moved upstairs?

She looked down at the I. D. dangling from her belt. The small card was a far cry from the bulkier visitor's pass she was used to wearing around the Agency. And she'd actually come up here, to this office, unaccompanied by other personnel. Unclipping the badge, she held it gingerly in her fingers and gave it a closer perusal. 'Stetson, Amanda' was spelled out in big black letters and a small blue strip ran across the top. Blue for Field Section . . . she belonged in Field Section. The face on the badge stared back at her, a slight smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. As if the woman in the picture knew some secret she wouldn't share.

A gentle tap interrupted her thoughts and a head poked in through the door. "The status updates, Mrs. Stetson," a young agent said as she placed a stack of files on her desk. "For your information."

"Oh. Thank you."

Giving her a nervous smile, the agent ducked back out the door. Amanda sighed. Mrs. Stetson . . . she really needed to stop jumping every time someone called her that. Mrs. Stetson . . .

Her eyes gravitated toward a picture on the edge of her desk. Phillip, Jamie and Emily smiled back at her, a big cake with five candles on the table in front of them. It must be Emily's birthday party, she realized with a sudden pang. There were other pictures, too, but she had no idea when they were taken. Dotty and Emily; Phillip and a girl she didn't know or recognize. A snapshot of her and Lee . . .

She picked up that picture, lightly running her finger around the edge of the frame. Lee's eyes sparkled down at the woman beside him, at . . . her. His face was lit up with a huge grin. They must have been going to some embassy party or other; she was all dressed up and he was wearing a tux. They looked so . . . happy.

"Amanda."

She jumped at the sound of her name and replaced the picture on the desk with a guilty smile. As if she'd been caught going through someone else's things.

"I'm sorry," Francine said with a friendly smile. "I didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to drop by and see how you were doing."

She stared open-mouth at the blonde agent standing in the doorway. Had Francine Desmond actually said something . . . nice? Amanda wouldn't have thought ninety years would have been long enough to make that happen, let alone nine. Maybe there really were miracles after all. If Francine could become human, then Dr. McJohn just might be able to find that antidote . . .

She forced herself to concentrate on the conversation. "It must be kind of crazy to wake up and find a great big piece of your life has just disappeared," Francine was saying as she perched comfortably on the edge of the desk. "I can't even imagine what that's like."

"Yes, it has been a little . . . strange." Amanda tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"That's a beautiful bracelet," Francine told her, her big blue eyes glued to Amanda's wrist. "I see Lee decided on the tennis bracelet after all."

"Tennis bracelet?" she replied weakly.

Francine nodded. "He was driving everyone crazy, trying to decide what to get you for Christmas."

Amanda swallowed hard, trying to reconcile the picture Francine painted with the man she remembered. It was almost more than she could comprehend. "I . . ."

The door opened before she could finish her sentence and Billy Melrose walked in with Lee in tow. "Amanda." Her boss nodded a greeting then turned to Francine. "Could you give us the room?" he demanded brusquely.

Biting her lip, Francine nodded. "See you later, Amanda," she mouthed as she left them alone.

"I've just gotten out of a meeting with representatives from the Justice Department," Billy began as soon as the door closed. "It doesn't look good."

Amanda shot a questioning glance in Lee's direction, but he shrugged and plopped down behind his desk with a sigh. "McJohn has run into a few problems cracking the code of the XP-15 gas," he said, his voice dispirited. "It doesn't look as if he'll have an antidote anytime soon."

"At least, not in time for you two to testify," Billy amended quickly. "So I'm afraid we're back to square one with Brody and Finch. We'll never get him on RICO alone."

Amanda frowned, puzzled. "I thought this Brody person was already in prison."

"He is," Lee stated brusquely. "But, unfortunately, his network is still alive and well. And back in business."

"How do you know that?" Amanda asked, her expression brightening. "Did you . . . remember?"

"Uh, no. Billy briefed me on the way up to the office."

"I see," she said faintly, turning away.

"What I need to do, Billy, is get back out there on the street," Lee continued, pushing up from his chair and beginning to pace. "Check with my family of contacts, while the trail is still hot."

"Lee," Amanda began, while Billy stated unequivocally, "Absolutely not, Scarecrow. If I might point out, you're missing a big chunk of your memory. In your condition, you'd be a danger to yourself **and** your partner."

Lee raised an eyebrow. "My partner?"

"Yes." Billy cleared his throat. "You have ten able bodied agents up here in Q-Section. Let them handle Brody's network. What I need is for you two to get up to speed so you can run this place. You can start by familiarizing yourself with the files in the vault and your current projects," he stated before Lee could argue.

"Yes, sir," Amanda replied quietly.

Lee's mood wasn't quite as conciliatory. "But Billy," he began sternly.

Mr. Melrose held up a hand to silence him. "No 'buts' about it, Scarecrow," their boss reiterated. "You're grounded until further notice. And you **will** let your partner help you. Understood?"

Lee's eyes were hooded as he looked at her. "Yeah, sure, Billy."

"Good. I'll touch base with both of you later today. Oh, and Scarecrow – you'd better get down to the garage and move your car before it's towed. You, ah, parked in Dr. Smyth's spot."

Lee frowned. "Dr. Smyth?"

"The Director of the Agency," Billy stated with a big grin as he closed the door and left them alone.

"Q-Section," Lee grumbled. His eyes took in every inch of the room. "Best I remember, this place was just some hole in the wall that idiot Larry Crawford called home. You could barely find his desk for the files."

Amanda cast her eyes over Lee's cluttered desk. "Then maybe things aren't so different after all," she said, unable to suppress her grin.

Lee smiled ruefully as he nodded at the mess. "Yeah, well, I think better that way." He began to pace again, wincing as he put weight on his recently injured ankle.

"Is your leg bothering you?" she asked tentatively.

He shrugged lightly. "It's not too bad, but my neck is killing me." He reached up and began to vigorously massage his stiff muscles. "That couch isn't the most comfortable place to sleep, I guess."

She nodded numbly; the conversation had suddenly moved to shaky ground. "Ah, why don't you get started in the vault while I move the car," she put in quickly. She grabbed the keys from his desk and skittered away before he could protest, the tennis bracelet a gentle tickle against her skin as she closed the door. Yes, shaky ground . . . most definitely.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

~~ VI ~~

"It's your turn, Daddy."

"Yeah, Lee, it's your turn. Good luck. You're gonna need it."

Lee turned and scowled at Philip. "Luck has nothing to do with it," he said, reaching out and taking the top card from the pile.

As he turned it over, Jamie collapsed into helpless laughter. "Blue again! You still can't move."

Phillip joined in. "That's what, ten turns in a row stuck in the Molasses Swamp. I think you've set a new family record."

Emily reached out and patted his hand encouragingly. "Don't worry, Daddy. If I get a red card on my next turn, I'll give it to you."

Lee shook his head. He could take on the most skilled blackjack dealer in Monaco and come away a winner, but apparently the intricacies of Candy Land were beyond his capabilities. And what was he thinking anyway, spending New Year's Eve playing board games?

He should be at a lavish party at some club, listening to a live band, swaying to the music, with an appropriately elegant escort in his arms. Come to think of it, hadn't Elisa Danton invited him to the French Embassy's New Year's Ball just a few weeks ago? He sighed. No, that was nine years in the past, the evening long over and done with.

Amanda called from the kitchen. "It's five minutes to midnight. Anyone want to help get ready for the big moment?"

"Gladly." Lee got up off the couch and hurried into the kitchen. Anything to get away from those damn gingerbread men with their smiling faces. He took the chilled bottle from Amanda with an appreciative grin. The day before, he'd been relieved to find a couple of bottles of high quality French champagne tucked away in the refrigerator. Apparently his new lifestyle hadn't totally eroded all of his standards.

"Do I get champagne, too?" Emily asked, her solemn hazel eyes suddenly staring up at him. She had the uncanniest knack for appearing out of nowhere.

Lee smiled down at her. "No, you get sparkling apple cider. I bought it just for you."

Emily squealed as he deftly popped the cork on the champagne.

"Gramma told me 'xactly what we're supposed to do," she said, taking a deep breath. "First we have to wait for the big ball to drop and then we all have to make bread."

"Bread?" Lee tilted his head questioningly.

"That's what Gramma said," Emily persisted stubbornly.

"I think you mean 'toast', sweetheart," Amanda said gently. "That means we all say 'Happy New Year' and clink our glasses together."

"They're starting the countdown," Jamie called, turning up the volume on the television. They all counted along with Dick Clark. "Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . Happy New Year!"

Well, it had to be better than the last year, Lee thought gloomily. Or better than the end of the year, at least. He watched as Emily carefully made the rounds, clinking her glass with both brothers and then Amanda. She came up to him and exclaimed, "Happy New Year, Daddy!"

He touched his glass to hers. "Happy New Year, Emily," he told her with a soft smile.

"Now everybody has to kiss!" Emily explained. Again she worked her way around the room.

Amanda followed suit, giving both her sons a peck on the cheek. "Happy New Year's, fellas," she said. "Thanks so much for staying in with us tonight."

"That's okay," Jamie laughed. "Renee won't allow him to date anyway. They're 'exclusive'."

Phillip shot a warning glare at his brother. "It's no problem, Mom," he said, then lowered his voice slightly. "This can't be very easy for the two of you."

"Mommy, you forgot to kiss Daddy." Emily stood beside Lee, a look of concern on her face.

Lee could feel his throat constrict as he looked across the room at Amanda. Kiss?

"Emily, they don't have to kiss," Jamie put in quickly.

"Yes, they do," Emily stated firmly. "Gramma said all the ladies have to kiss the mens."

"It's okay, Jamie," Amanda said faintly.

Lee could see a flush on her cheeks as she walked over to him. Awkwardly he reached out and clasped both of her arms. For a long moment, he stood looking into her expressive dark brown eyes. Her lower lip trembled slightly and he could hear the soft flutter of her breath over her parted lips. A faint scent of spring lilacs, both intoxicating and comforting at the same time, wafted over him.

He had no idea how long he would have remained there, staring into her face if Amanda hadn't taken the initiative. Slowly she leaned in and brushed her lips against his in a brief contact. Lee tightened his grip on her arms and pressed his lips back against hers. Amanda gasped slightly and backed away, a puzzled look on her face.

He stood there stupidly for a few seconds, wondering what had just had happened. Amanda had kissed him. And for a moment, he'd wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms, to kiss her back, to prolong their contact, to let his greedy lips roam over her face, his hands over her . . . He shook his head. What the hell was he thinking? Exactly how potent was that champagne, anyway?

Amanda apparently had been much less affected by their brief contact. She had already turned away and was saying to Emily, "Now, it's time you hit the sack, young lady. And no arguments. You promised that if we let you stay up until midnight you'd go straight to bed."

"Okay, but I want Daddy to tuck me in." She put her hand into Lee's and pulled him towards the stairs.

Amanda was alone in the kitchen when Lee came downstairs ten minutes later. "Emily was so excited I could hardly get her to brush her teeth and get into bed." He stopped and nervously looked around the empty room. "Where did the boys disappear to?"

"They went over to Mother's apartment to watch their video. Apparently it's just loaded with explosions and car chases and they thought it might keep Emily awake. Mother won't be home for several hours yet, I'm sure." Amanda finished loading the dishwasher and closed the door. "I think I'll do these by hand," she said, indicating the crystal glasses on the counter.

"Let me help." Lee picked up a towel and waited while she filled the sink with soapy water. They fell into an easy rhythm as Amanda washed each glass, rinsed it and handed it to him to dry.

"It's really handy having the apartment over the garage."

"Mmm-hmm. Apparently we decided to have it remodeled back when I was expecting Emily."

Lee looked away uncomfortably. He wondered what that must have been like, Amanda pregnant with his child. Somehow he'd never really pictured himself as ever being a father. Of course, after the fiasco with Eva, he hadn't even pictured himself as getting married.

"Lee." Amanda's soft but insistent voice broke through his reverie and he realized she was holding out the last glass to him.

"Sorry about that," he said. "I was just . . . thinking about something else."

"Yeah," she said, "me too." They stared at each other silently for a few moments, then Amanda broke off their eye contact and said, "Maybe I should head upstairs, too. It's been a pretty long day."

Lee reached out a hand to stop her. "Amanda, I was thinking, we really do need to talk."

"Yeah?" She looked down at his fingers resting gently on her arm.

Lee quickly moved his hand away again. "Yeah."

She sighed. "I suppose so. Okay, let me go check on Emily and I'll be right back."

~ ~ SMK ~ ~

This was getting to be a regular habit, Amanda mused as she stood on the landing, unsure if she should go up or down. Lee was waiting for her, but she needed a few moments to collect her thoughts. It had been a rather unsettling evening.

She sighed and ran her fingers lightly over her lips, as if she could still feel the touch of Lee's lips against hers. Maybe he thought she'd wanted to kiss him. That she'd put Emily up to it. Oh, she'd really have to 'thank' her mother for giving Emily such explicit descriptions of New Year's Eve rituals.

"Amanda?"

She quickly dropped her hand from her lips and looked down to find Lee standing at the bottom of the stairs. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said, then added more firmly, "Really."

She walked down the stairs and followed him into the den.

"I figured we might as well finish off the last of the champagne." He indicated two glasses sitting on the coffee table.

Nervously Amanda took a seat on the couch and picked up one of the glasses. Lee sat down beside her and did the same. "Cheers," he said, raising his glass. She followed suit and took a quick swallow to bolster her courage. It suddenly occurred to her that the two of them had probably done the same thing exactly one week earlier on Christmas Eve. Only then she would have been totally at ease, enjoying the late night quiet with her husband, instead of being on edge, weighing her every word before she uttered it.

"I've been thinking," Lee cleared his throat and began. "It's been almost a week now and McJohn hasn't had much luck finding our antidote. And our memories don't seem to be coming back on their own, either."

"So what should we do?" she asked nervously.

"It's too early to make any long term decisions, but . . ." Lee reached up and rubbed his neck.

"You shouldn't have to keep sleeping on the couch," Amanda finished for him. "It **is** your house too, Lee."

He looked up sharply at her and for a panicked moment she wondered if he thought she was suggesting . . . "Jamie and Phillip are leaving on Sunday," she said in a rush. "So you can have their room."

"Is semester break over already?" Lee asked.

"No, they're going to spend the rest of their holidays with Joe."

"Joe?"

"My ex-husband. Their father," she explained.

"That's right." Lee sat back on the couch and closed his eyes. "He lives out of the country, doesn't he? I vaguely remember you mentioning him in the profile you filled out when you started at the Agency."

"He works for E.A.O. According to the boys, Joe was appointed their liaison with the U.N. at the Hague just a couple of months back. The boys have never been to Holland before and they're looking forward to it."

Lee smiled. "I remember my first trip to Amsterdam. My uncle was stationed at an Air Force base in Germany, and my buddies and I drove over to check out the red-light district. There was one girl who . . ." Catching Amanda's eye, he let his words trail off.

She was silent for a moment then asked, "Lee, do you miss your old life? I mean, the way you remember things were?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Sometimes. Everything just feels so strange, I'm not sure where . . . or if . . . I fit in."

"This is all pretty strange for me too," she said. "But it's got to be more difficult for you. So I'd understand if you . . ." She made a vague gesture with her hands, then let them fall back into her lap.

An expression she couldn't decipher flitted across his face. "And what would we tell Emily?" he asked in a low voice. "Are you ready to deal with that?"

"I'm just scared," Amanda whispered. "What if we never get our memories back? What if it all just stays this great big blank space?"

"And what if it doesn't?" Lee countered. "What if I decide to leave and then it starts coming back?"

"Have you remembered anything at all about . . . us?" she pressed, pinning him to the couch with a frank stare.

"Well, no. At least, I don't think so. But I keep having these feelings of . . . hell, I don't know. But I don't want to just pick up and leave, and that's got to mean something, don't you think?" He reached out and grasped his champagne glass by its stem, twisting it around and around. "I don't want Emily to think that I . . . Look," he straightened up and rubbed his forehead wearily, "it's only been a week. Like you said, with the boys gone, I can move into their room. We've been doing okay so far, haven't we? So let's not make any drastic decisions just yet."

"Okay," she acquiesced. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

Their eyes met and for one moment Amanda had the oddest feeling that Lee might kiss her again. Hurriedly, she jumped up. "I'd better get upstairs. The boys are planning on having friends over all day to watch football, and I promised I'd help them get ready." Before Lee could get out a reply, she rushed out of the room.

She wasn't sure, but as she hurried up the stairs she thought she heard him mutter a bitter, "Happy New Year, Amanda."

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Part Two

~~ VII ~~

"Would you like some coffee?"

Lee looked up to see Amanda standing by his desk, a polite but distant smile on her face.

"Ah, no." As an afterthought, he added, "But thanks."

Without a word, she replaced the carafe on the coffee maker and returned to her desk. Lee shifted uncomfortably in his chair. This subtle, unspoken tension had hovered between them ever since the holidays, and it had only become more pronounced after the boys had gone off to visit their father. She was different somehow. Hell, maybe he was different, too. It was almost as if they'd crossed some unseen line for just a moment on New Year's Eve and now were too afraid to venture near it again.

Or maybe he was imagining things; maybe it was all just in his head. Emily didn't seem to notice that anything was amiss. Although she had asked him more than a few pointed questions about why he was sleeping in the boys' bedroom. Those clear hazel eyes had a way of seeing right into his heart. Just like . . .

Like Amanda? Was that what he recognized in his daughter? No, it couldn't be. He really didn't know Amanda well enough to make that comparison. Except sometimes . . . like now, for instance, when she tilted her head a certain way . . . Lee thought that maybe he **did** know her. That there was something there, something lingering on the edges of his consciousness . . . something he just couldn't place. A sensory memory, perhaps, of the people they used to be.

Shaking himself, he focused on the files on his desk. Billy had insisted they get up to speed on their old cases immediately. Amazingly, it was taking much longer than Lee had imagined. One solid week of work, and there was still an entire filing cabinet to sort through.

The trouble was, after a while, one case just blurred into another, and the words didn't make any sense. There were a few that stood out, though. The Mongoose, Red February, Operation Sandstorm . . . Boy, Amanda had sure made a mess out of that one. Two months of intricate maneuvers blown in a single afternoon. She must have a singular talent for being unable to follow orders.

Not to mention that business with the Dodger. Alan Squires. Lee rubbed his thumb across his forehead. The man **could** be called good-looking, he supposed, in a slick, predatory kind of way. But still . . . picked up by a fast-talking stranger in a parking lot. How naïve could one woman . . .

"What?"

"Huh?" Amanda's question took him by surprise, and he frowned. Had he spoken out loud?

"You're staring," she said, her eyes widening in unspoken accusation.

"I am **not** staring."

"Yes, you are. You've been doing it all morning. Every couple of seconds you look up and stare."

"I do not . . ."

"And then you do that funny little thing with your mouth," she insisted as stubbornly as ever. "Like you're talking to yourself. Then you start reading again." Amanda gave him a half-hearted smile. "You're never going to get through that stack of files today if you keep doing that."

He tapped his finger absently against the desk. "Doing what?"

"Staring."

The subtle curve of her cheek reminded him again of Emily and he forced his attention back to the task at hand. "Amanda, as you just pointed out, we've got a lot of paperwork to get through here. Maybe you should pay a little more attention to your own stack and let me worry about mine."

The silence coming from across the room was deafening. He refused to look up, instead continuing his reading with dogged persistence. He could almost feel her anger. Well, maybe he **had** been a bit hard on her. Actually, he had to admit, Amanda had been pretty helpful with a few of the later cases. Okay, more than a few. And he still had over five years of reports to read. His old friend and mentor, Harry Thornton, certainly seemed to trust her. And it appeared that Lee had even relied on her himself when Billy had gotten himself into trouble with those Cyclops people. Puzzled, he watched her as she bent over her desk, her forehead creasing slightly as she studied the papers spread out in front of her. Had she really left her family and gone on the run to help him nail Alexi Makarov?

"You're doing it again," she muttered under her breath, her eyes never leaving her file.

Lee tossed his pen onto the desk. This was crazy. What bearing did cases that had been put to bed years ago have on their present situation, anyway? What they needed was an antidote, not a paperwork trip down memory lane. If only the lab would call with some good news . . .

As if on cue, the phone suddenly rang and he pounced on it. "Stetson," he greeted tersely, willing it to be McJohn. A series of static clicks greeted him, then a receptionist. "Please hold for Mr. Joe King."

Lee groaned in disappointment. Typical. He wanted a doctor, and instead he got lawyer. A lawyer? He wrinkled his brow; had Amanda told him that? No, he must have read it in one of the files. The slightly dog-eared one labeled 'Estoccia.' Joe King was a lawyer for the E.A.O. A paper pusher . . . but by all reports, a genuinely nice guy. Then why was he suddenly so annoyed? Must be one of those sense memories again.

The dead line suddenly sprang to life. "Oh, uh, hi," he said in response to Joe's friendly greeting. "Yeah, we're fine, thanks. Uh, tell the boys I said hello, too. Amanda . . . yeah, sure, she's right here." He placed the call on hold. "It's for you," he stated hesitantly. "Your husb . . . uh, 'ex' husband."

"I've got it," she said in a quiet voice and he suddenly realized he **had** been staring. He quickly replaced the phone on its cradle. "Hello, Joe," she said, a big smile spreading across her face. "Yes, it's wonderful to hear your voice, too. How are things in the Netherlands? Are the boys okay?"

Pushing away from his desk, he rose and began to pace, keeping one eye fixed on Amanda as she talked on the phone. She certainly had a lot to say to her ex.

"Yes, I know. Me, too." Her eyes had a wistful look as she added, "Thank you, sweetheart. I'll do that. 'Bye."

Lee let out a along breath as she hung up the phone. "That does it," he muttered to himself. "I can't do this anymore."

"Do what?" Amanda asked.

"This," he replied, indicating the office, the vault and his cluttered desk with one large, sweeping gesture. "I'm a field agent, not a desk jockey. I should be out there trying to solve this Brody mess, not sitting here shuffling papers like a . . ." Like a lawyer, he was about to say.

"There's not a whole lot we can do at the moment. Mr. Melrose ordered us to stay put," she reminded him.

"You stay put." Her eyes narrowed as he grabbed his keys and moved purposefully towards the door. "I'm going to crack this case."

"Lee . . ."

"I don't have time to argue about this, Amanda."

"I have no intention of arguing." She quickly reached into the bottom drawer of her desk and grabbed her purse. "I'm going with you."

One hand on the door, he paused. "I don't work with a partner. I operate solo."

"I beg to differ with you, Scarecrow. And so do the dozens of files in that vault. Besides," she said, shoving her Agency I. D. under his nose. "You'll notice that the blue strip on my pass looks exactly the same as yours."

"That may have been true once, but you've got amnesia." He ran a quick hand through his hair. "Even if you've **had** training, you've forgotten it."

"I don't need training to keep an eye on you. I used to do it all the time when I was a civilian." She lifted her chin and boldly met his gaze. "Now what's it going to be – am I going to watch your tail, or are you going to watch me call security?"

He deepened his scowl as he glared back at her. "You wouldn't."

"Yes, I would."

Lee paused for a minute. Yes, she most definitely would. There was more than just defiance in her tone; there was a subtle challenge. "Okay, okay," he capitulated, holding open the door. "But don't forget, blue strip or not, I'm still the senior agent here. If I say to . . ."

"Sure, Scarecrow," she interrupted with a smug smile. "I'll wait in the car."

Lee let out another groan. He had a bad feeling he was going to regret this.

~ ~ SMK ~ ~

"This is a pretty seedy neighborhood," Amanda commented as Lee guided the BMW through midday traffic.

"Well, that's what you get when you don't stay back at the office," Lee answered. "A tour of D.C.'s seediest neighborhoods."

"So where exactly are we going?"

"To see an old contact of mine. According to the files he's still in the snitch business." He looked over at her as he stopped at a red light. "You've actually met him. Augie Swan."

The name meant nothing to her, of course, and she shook her head. "Lee, do you think he knows about what happened to us?"

"Probably not. Billy wanted to keep this whole memory loss thing under wraps and hopefully throw Brody's network off balance a bit." As the light changed, he stepped on the gas.

"So I need to pretend like I know this person?" She swallowed nervously.

"Well, you could always wait in the car, if you'd be more comfortable. It wasn't my idea that you come along, remember." He glanced over at her again with a smile that came precariously close to being a sneer.

Amanda sighed. She understood it must be frustrating to him to have her insist on coming along. But did he think the situation was any easier for her? She was married to a man who took every opportunity to let people know he considered her at best to be a nuisance and at worst a total idiot. At least she had the decency to try to make him feel at ease in her house.

Lee pulled up in front of a dilapidated three story office building on the most run-down block they'd seen yet. A sign in a second story window read, "A. R. Swann Investigations – Bonded."

"Bonded," Lee snorted as he got out of the car. "If Augie managed to get himself bonded then I'm . . ."

"Married and living in the suburbs?" Amanda supplied. "Maybe he's changed from what you remember."

She followed him into the building and up a dingy staircase. It was a toss up between fearing that she'd lose her footing on a broken stair or catching some horrid disease if she dared touch the handrail to steady herself.

"Well, if it isn't Mr. and Mrs. Spy!" Augie greeted them at the door. Apparently his business wasn't doing well enough to support a receptionist. "What can I do for you today?"

He shook hands with Lee, then reached out and took both of Amanda's hands in his, sweeping her fingers up for a quick kiss. Involuntarily she drew back a bit. Augie didn't seem to notice anything amiss, so she reassured herself that this must have been typical of her reaction to him in the past.

"Amanda, what's going on? No rings?" Augie eyed her bare fingers. "Have you finally come to your senses and realized you could do much better than this joker here?" He dropped his voice to an exaggerated whisper. "If you want me to put the big guy under surveillance and dig up some dirt for your lawyer, I'll be happy to give you a discounted rate."

"Knock it off, Augie," Lee said, simultaneously putting his arm around Amanda's shoulders and moving her away from the other man. "She's not interested."

"I'm actually just having my rings cleaned," Amanda said. "But thanks for your concern. I'll be sure to keep your offer in mind if anything changes."

"Augie, if you don't mind getting down to business, I'm trying to find someone who may be associated with Nathaniel Brody's network. Her name is Ling Mai Cheng. She contacted me about two weeks ago but I don't know how to get hold of her again."

Augie whistled. "I heard Finch was on the warpath and gunning for the two of you. But why don't you just use the computers back at your office?"

"Because the investigation isn't exactly officially official." Lee winked at Augie. "I was hoping you could make a few phone calls for me at say, twice your usual rate."

Augie grinned. "Make it three times my rate and you've got yourself a deal." As soon as Lee nodded, he hurried into the other room.

"What a charming person," Amanda remarked, walking about the dingy room. She sat down on one of the chairs in the waiting area and gingerly picked up a magazine from the side table. Catching sight of the half naked woman on the cover, she quickly set it down again. "You certainly know how to pick your associates."

Lee laughed. "I wouldn't exactly call Augie an 'associate'. That's almost as bad as . . ."

"Calling me your partner?" Amanda said, quirking up an eyebrow.

"Would you stop putting words in my mouth," Lee replied indignantly. "Look, I'm sorry I gave you such a hard time before about coming along. I'm just not used to working with someone else." He walked over to the window and stood there, moodily staring down at the street.

Getting up, she crossed over to him. "I'm sorry, too. I know this isn't easy for you, either." She paused. How could she explain to him that this was just her reaction to the build up of tension over the past few days? She seemed to find a hurtful meaning in just about everything Lee said and did, or was that just because she was looking for it?

Amanda sighed softly. Things between them were so tense – almost unnaturally so. Surely this couldn't be their usual reaction to each other. Somewhere in their past they must have moved beyond this petty bickering. After all, they had come to love each other enough to marry and have a child together.

She looked up as Augie suddenly reappeared. "That was almost too easy. Not that I won't be glad to take your money." He waited until Lee opened up his wallet and placed a few twenties in his palm. "Uh-uh," he said, "our arrangement was for three times my usual fee."

Sourly, Lee gave him another few bills. "Okay, Augie, what have you got?"

"I found two L. M. Chengs in the area. One is here in D.C. and the other lives just across the Maryland border in Kensington. I've got home and work addresses here." He gave Lee a scrap of paper. "And don't forget, you didn't learn anything from me."

"I never do, Augie," Lee threw over his shoulder as they left.

~ ~ SMK ~ ~

"Well that was a total waste of time," Lee commented as they got back into the car half an hour later.

"Not really," Amanda said. "We now know that this Ling-Mai definitely isn't the one who contacted you, I mean, us."

Lee shook his head. "Not unless she somehow managed to unplug her oxygen and sneak past the staff at her nursing home. Okay, so now we head up to Maryland."

"Lee, is everything okay?" Amanda asked a few minutes later.

He could hear the concern in her voice. Pushing it aside, he mumbled a terse, "Everything's fine."

"Then why do you keep looking in the rearview mirror? Oh my gosh, is someone following us?" She swiveled around in her seat and peered out the back window anxiously.

"Not any more," Lee muttered.

"What do you mean, not any more?" He could hear an accusatory note in her voice and knew he should have gone with his first instinct of not saying anything.

"I mean that someone **was** following us on our way to Augie's and afterwards to the nursing home, but they're gone now."

She sank back down in her seat and glared at him. "And you didn't think this was important enough to mention to me?"

"On a need to know basis, no," he said easily. "I figured I wouldn't have had to, what with you having had all that training to be my partner."

He realized as soon as he'd said it that he'd pushed her too far. For a moment Amanda looked as if she wanted to reach out and smack him. Instead, she brooded in silence for a while, but finally broke down and asked, "So why do you think they stopped following us?"

"Only thing I can think of is that they didn't know where we were going and wanted to keep tabs on us."

"And maybe now they know what we're up to," Amanda said. "Maybe they realized we're on our way to see Ling Mai."

She was catching on pretty fast, it seemed. "Which means we'd better make sure we get there before they do," Lee said grimly. He made a sharp turn onto Wisconsin and pushed down on the accelerator. "She's probably at work, so we'll try that address first."

"That would be 'Paws and Claws Pet Grooming'," Amanda read from the note Augie had given Lee. "It's on Knowles Avenue in Kensington."

~ ~ SMK ~ ~

Lee had barely brought the car to a stop before he was out and halfway across the parking lot. Amanda hurried after him through the front door just in time to see him walking up to the front desk.

"I need to speak to Ling Mai Cheng," Lee demanded without any preamble.

The man in a plaid sport coat had his feet propped up on the desk and was engrossed in a newspaper. A tarnished name plate proclaimed him to be 'Derek Smythe, Manager', but he didn't seem to be too wrapped up in his work. "Hey, buddy, I'm on a break. How about you come back in ten minutes."

Lee reached out and knocked the newspaper to the floor. "No, how about now."

"Please," Amanda put in, smiling as sweetly as she could, "this is incredibly important and I'd really appreciate it if you could help."

Apparently this was the right tack to use. She couldn't help but shoot a smug look at Lee as Mr. Smythe immediately got up and walked over to her.

"Why didn't you say so in the first place," the manager said. With a smile that was little more than a leer, he reached out and tucked Amanda's hand into the crook of his arm. "Right this way, darling. Ling Mai's in the back, giving a Bouvier a wash and cut."

"Hey, buddy, that happens to be my **wife**." Lee slid his arm around Amanda's waist and pulled her to him. In almost the same move, he dropped his hand and took a step back, as if he'd just realized what he'd done. Amanda wasn't sure which of them he'd surprised more.

Ignoring his outburst, Mr. Smythe led the two of them down a corridor to the last door on the left. "Ling Mai, you've got visitors," he called out as he opened the door.

A large and rather exuberant dog bounded out of the door, knocking Lee off his feet. Amanda's laughter at his predicament died away as she walked into the room. "Lee," she called hoarsely. "Lee!"

She grabbed his arm as he rushed into the room. "In the corner," she choked out, turning away from the sight of a young woman lying crumpled in a heap. Her neck was twisted at an unnatural angle and a loop of wire encircled her neck.

"What the hell," the manager said, backing out the door. "I'm calling the cops."

Suddenly they heard a scream from a distant part of the building. "Stay here," Lee ordered as he ran out the opposite door.

Amanda doubted her shaking limbs could have taken her anywhere even without Lee's instructions. Biting her lip, she slowly knelt down and gingerly reached for the woman's wrist. As she had expected, there was no pulse.

"He got away," Lee said in disgust as he came back into the room a few minutes later. "I'll ask around and see if anyone else on staff got a look at him and we can make a composite sketch." He re-holstered a gun Amanda hadn't even realized he'd been carrying. Catching sight of the look on her face, he asked, "Amanda, are you okay?"

She numbly shook her head. "Lee, she's dead. And it's all our fault. If we hadn't come here today . . ." She backed away from the body, shaking badly.

Lee hurried over to her and took her by the arms. "Amanda, listen to me, this is not our fault. Ling Mai signed her own death warrant the minute she got involved with Brody's network. You hear me?" He gave her a slight shake, his hazel eyes full of concern.

"I . . . just . . ." Slowly she leaned into his strong bulk and collapsed against him. She felt Lee's arms slide around her and pull her to him and she closed her eyes, trying to shut out the horror of what had just happened. Reaching out, she grasped one of his lapels in her hand, clutching it tightly between her fingertips.

"Shh. . . shh. . ." Lee soothed her, stroking his hands up and down her back. "It's okay; you're fine, I've got you. Everything is going to be okay."

As if to deny what he had just said, in the distance they could hear the faint but growing sounds of police sirens.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

~~ VIII ~~

Lee glanced at Amanda out of the corner of his eye. She'd barely said a word on the drive back to the Agency and was now standing stiffly beside him in Billy Melrose's office, her complexion still slightly pale. She really should have stayed out of this mess. After all, Amanda thought smuggling a candy bar to a hospital patient was a major breach of protocol. He could only imagine the effect Billy's tongue-lashing must be having coming on top of that fiasco at the dog grooming shop. All in all, it had been a pretty rotten day.

As Billy shifted into high gear, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "What the hell were you thinking?" their boss continued to rant as he paced back and forth behind his desk. "Not only is our one link to Finch dead, but now the Montgomery County police are involved." He indicated the thick file sitting on his desk. "Do you have any idea how long it's going to take me to finish all their blasted paperwork?"

"That idiot Smythe called the cops before I could stop him," Lee put in.

Billy's eyes widened. "Don't tell me you somehow dragged Dr. Smyth into this, too?"

"That's not 'Smyth,' sir, it's 'Smythe,'" Amanda stated hoarsely as Lee cocked his head and stared at her. "With an 'e.'"

"Well, I suppose I should be grateful for small favors," Billy shot back sarcastically. "But that's about all I have to be grateful for today. Not only is the last tangible link to Finch lying on a slab in the morgue, but Brody's people are probably on to the two of you as well." Lee felt Amanda shudder as Billy added, "Do you have any idea of the mess this has turned into?"

Lee shrugged lightly. "Yeah, but Billy – you really didn't expect me to just sit on my hands, did you?"

"I most certainly did!" Billy thundered back. "You know, I think that amnesia of yours is getting worse. I distinctly recall ordering you to stay out of the field."

"Yeah, well . . ."

"I don't want to hear it, Scarecrow," Billy cut him off angrily. "You have a singular talent for being unable to follow orders. You may be in charge of Q-Section, but it still reports to me!"

Amanda suddenly cleared her throat. "This wasn't just Lee's fault," he heard her say in a small voice. "I was there, too, sir."

"Yes, I'm well aware of that," Billy rejoined. "I'm not any happier with you, believe me."

Lee saw her flinch. "Amanda's not to blame for this, Billy," he put in quickly. "This was my call."

"No, Lee," she countered, biting her lip as she turned to face him. "I was the one who insisted on coming along. You told me to stay put."

Lee shook his head. "I'm the senior agent here; this is my responsibility."

She stiffened slightly. "I can take responsibility for my own actions. You don't have to protect me."

"Amanda, I'm not . . ."

"Okay, okay," Billy interrupted gruffly. "As far as I'm concerned, you can both take responsibility for your actions – starting with that stack of paperwork. It needs to be filled out, in triplicate, and on my desk the first thing in the morning. Now get out of here, both of you. I don't want to see you for the rest of the day. Do you think you can manage to follow that order at least?"

"Yeah, Billy," Lee replied with a touch of sarcasm. "I'm sure we can."

As Amanda retrieved the large file from Billy's desk, Lee reached for her hand and led her out the door and through the crowded bullpen.

"Mr. Melrose is pretty angry," she whispered once they reached the relative privacy of the hall.

He tightened his grip. "It's not the first time, believe me. Billy's bark is worse than his bite; he'll cool off. What concerns me is that he might be right about one thing – we're more of a target now." Lee sighed. "We'll have to be more careful."

"I'm sorry," she said somewhat breathily as they reached the elevator. "Maybe if I'd been a little faster on my feet, that guy wouldn't have called the cops."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You'd just seen Ling Mai's body; the first time is always rough."

She let out a little sigh. "I know it's probably not really the first time, but it feels that way at the moment. Thank you, Lee," she said, raising her eyes to his.

"For what?" he asked with a puzzled expression.

"For what you did back there at the shop," she whispered throatily. "I needed . . . well, thanks."

"You don't have to thank me. I'm your hus. . ."

He suddenly stopped himself. Had he almost said the 'H' word? He saw Amanda's eyes widen. The hint of moisture in the corners made them look darker than ever and Lee could feel his heart thump loudly in his chest. Looking down, he saw that her hand was still grasped firmly in his, their fingers intertwined. Instantly he retreated a step and let go.

"The elevator's here," he muttered gruffly as the doors slid open. Amanda nodded and he followed her inside.

"Where do they get some of these clothes?" she said as she rearranged the odd collection of coats and jackets in front of them. "Or maybe they're in style now and we just don't remember."

Lee shifted uncomfortably; she seemed determined to make small talk, it appeared.

"I guess we'll be here pretty late tonight," she sighed as they stepped into the foyer. "I'd better give Mother a call and let her know we won't be home anytime soon. And she's making her special meatloaf, too."

Lee felt a thin layer of perspiration break out on his forehead as he listened to Amanda ramble on about dinner. With one foot on the steps that led to the Q, he suddenly paused. "I've got to get out of here," he mumbled.

Amanda looked at him strangely. "Lee . . ." she began hesitantly, glancing at the stoic Mrs. Marston out the corner of her eye.

It didn't matter. The only thing Lee knew was that he had to leave . . . right now. He reached into his pocket and handed her the car keys. "Go on home, Amanda. Just leave the paperwork on my desk. I'll take care of it when I come back. There's no use both of us being stuck here."

Avoiding her eyes, he barreled out the door.

~ ~ SMK ~ ~

Amanda sat down behind her desk with a frown. What had just happened? They'd been standing there in the corridor waiting for the elevator and Lee had almost referred to himself as her husband! She bit her lip; for one brief moment she'd almost felt as if he was her husband, too. Then, somehow, it had all fallen apart, and he'd done what he did best . . . run.

Yes, Lee Stetson was very good at running. She'd sensed that about him right from the start. Beneath that suave, sophisticated shell lay a scared, vulnerable little boy – something he kept carefully hidden from the world. And most especially from the people who cared about him.

She supposed it had to do with the way he'd been brought up. Losing his parents at such a young age, then growing up with that inattentive uncle of his. Lee had shared a little bit of his past with her when he'd asked for her help with Alexi. She sighed. What was it Lee had said on the ride home from the hospital? Oh yeah, that the business with Alexi all seemed like it had happened weeks ago instead of years.

He was right; she felt that way, too. She shouldn't be wading through this emotional maelstrom with the all too volatile Lee Stetson; she should be going home to get ready for an evening with Dean. Good, solid, dependable Dean McGuire, who loved her and actually **wanted** to be married to her.

She shuddered as the picture of Ling Mai's crumpled body played over and over again in her mind. She'd made the choice to get involved with Brody's network, Lee had said. She'd engineered her own death.

Amanda bit her lip. In a way, hadn't she done the same thing? How naïve she'd been that day at the train station. Somehow she'd let a fast talking stranger convince her to take that package and now she found herself embroiled in a world of danger and intrigue. Was that what she'd really wanted? The chance to end up like Ling Mai some day, lying on some dirty tile floor, covered with dog hair, her life over?

That's what had almost happened, though. A pet grooming shop or a dirty warehouse, it was all the same.

Her eyes were drawn to the middle drawer on her desk. She carried a gun now, too, just like Lee. She'd come across the slim, pearl-handled pistol the other day while searching for some form or other Francine had needed. It lay there still, an unspoken reminder that she had, indeed, chosen this life, this career, this man.

Amanda pushed away from her desk with a shudder. She couldn't think about this any more; it was just too much all of a sudden. Anger washed over her in a wave. Her daughter was waiting patiently at home; if Lee wanted to finish that damned paperwork himself, then he was welcome to it. She could run just as well as he could.

~ ~ SMK ~ ~

Lee felt the knot in his stomach slowly begin to dissolve as the full-bodied Cabernet trickled over his palate. A quiet, relaxing dinner alone with some fine wine, fine food and a little ambiance was just what the doctor ordered.

His smile widened as he studied the menu. L'Ornate had added some new house specialties, it seemed. Confit of Moulard Duck Leg, Lobster Crawfish Bisque . . . and the Cassolette d'Escargots looked absolutely first-rate. Yes, he was definitely having the escargot. He groaned and shook his head. Meatloaf, indeed. The only thing that even came close to it on the menu was the Pate de Fois Gras.

He reached for his wine and took another sip, soaking up the atmosphere. This restaurant had always been one of his favorites. In fact, at one time he'd even thought about living in this neighborhood. There were some really great apartments not too far away. The elegant brick buildings were a far cry from white Cape Cod houses with picket fences.

Of course, an apartment didn't have much backyard to speak of. Emily certainly loved playing in the backyard. He smiled as he remembered how her face had filled with excitement the other day as she'd sprawled out on the ground, determinedly trying to make angels in the rapidly diminishing snow.

"Lee, darling. Now this is what I call a happy surprise. What brings you so far from suburbia?"

Lee looked up into the smiling face of a slickly coiffed blonde, her designer dress clinging to her in all the right places. She might be a few years older, but he'd recognize that sultry voice anywhere.

"Elisa," he said, breaking into a grin. "It's good to see you. It's been a, uh, long time." At least, he hoped that was the truth.

"Yes, it has, darling." She looked curiously around the restaurant. "Where's that charming wife of yours? In the ladies' room?"

"No," Lee replied a little too quickly. "She's at home."

She raised an eyebrow and looked at him expectantly. "You're dining all alone?"

"Ah, not any more," he replied with a short laugh.

She smiled as she took a seat opposite him in the darkened booth. Elisa Danton was nothing if not transparent. But it was one of the things he liked best about her. There were no hidden depths, no expectations he couldn't meet. What you saw was definitely what you got. Not like . . .

"So, how is that adorable little girl of yours?" Elisa asked, draping her napkin over her lap. "She's what now, three?"

"She just turned five."

"Time certainly does fly. And here I don't feel a day older than the night we met." Elisa laughed, a light tinkling sound that rippled out from behind the menu. "That was some party."

Lee's rough laughter mingled with hers. "Yeah. I'm not sure the French ever recovered."

"Or their cuisine, either," she murmured as she studied the menu. "The entrees here are so . . . passé, don't you think?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess they are at that," Lee muttered. "So Elisa, tell me, what's new in your life?" He figured he'd better beat her to the draw and ask. Somehow, he couldn't quite picture himself saying casually, 'Oh, nothing out of the usual; my brain is under the impression it's 1983, but hey, I'm a spy, what do you expect? It's simply a hazard of the profession.'

Letting out a short breath, he looked across the table at Elisa. It didn't seem that he had anything to worry about; she had enough conversation to last into the next year. Had she always been like this, he wondered as she talked her way through the appetizers and into the main course? It didn't quite fit the picture of the sultry, sophisticated Elisa Danton he remembered. She must have changed.

At least she managed to keep him entertained. He'd barely had time to think about all those things he couldn't remember. In fact, he'd barely had time to eat the escargot he'd wanted so badly just an hour earlier. His dinner lay practically untouched on his plate.

"You've been pretty quiet this evening, Lee," she said with a smile as the waiter cleared away the last of the dishes. "Cat got your tongue? Or is it your wife?" she said, placing her hand on top of his. He could feel the arousing scratch of her nails on his flesh as she caressed him.

"What's this?" she demanded gently, holding up his hand. "I don't see a ring. Trouble in paradise, darling?" The light murmur in her throat turned into a hum as she turned his hand over and stroked his palm. Hum, hell – the woman was practically purring.

"Uh, Amanda and I are working through a few issues at the moment."

"Really." She leaned closer, her tongue moistening her lips. "Do tell Dr. Elisa all about it."

Avoiding his dinner companion's inquisitive eyes, he extricated his hand from her grasp. Reaching for his wine, he sipped greedily, hoping to somehow lower the pounding in his head to a dull roar. Damn, he should never have opened his big mouth about his current marital troubles. The words had just slipped out before he could stop himself. It wasn't exactly fair to Amanda; after all, she was the mother of his child. He owed her some loyalty, especially after the rough time she'd had earlier today. He couldn't seem to get rid of the picture of her face as she'd stood over Ling Mai's body. Trembling, in need of comfort . . .

Amanda was certainly the polar opposite of the woman sitting across from him. Elisa Danton was oysters Rockefeller and French champagne; Amanda King was homemade cake and warm milk. And all the other things that reminded him of what he'd lost as a child . . . feelings that scared the hell out of him.

"It's nothing," he said at length as he felt Elisa's enormous blue eyes on him. "I'm sure it will sort itself out." One way or another, he added silently to himself as he drained his wine glass.

Elisa flashed him one of her world famous smiles. How on earth did she do it? The woman could still stir his blood with one look. He remembered that evening they'd spent together in Paris, years ago. They'd had dinner, just like this then danced well into the night. Oh, how he'd wanted her! When they'd finally arrived at the inn, all he could think about was peeling her out of that white suit layer by layer, then lying naked beside her on those satin sheets and making love to her for hours. She'd looked so beautiful standing there by the fireplace. If only that damn maid would leave them alone . . .

No, wait. That couldn't have been, Elisa, could it? His face scrunched up into a frown. Something about the memory seemed all wrong.

"I know what you need, darling," Elisa said, her silken voice penetrating his foggy mind. "There's a great little place I know that serves an absolutely scandalous dessert."

"What place?" Lee all but croaked. His breathing roughened as he suddenly felt her toes tease along his calf.

Elisa smiled. "Why, my place, of course."

He hesitated, but Elisa would have none if it; she ran her fingers lightly over his again, her thumb sensually caressing the third finger of his left hand. For some reason, Lee felt oddly naked.

"No questions, no strings," she said, flashing him yet another alluring smile. "We've never needed them, have we, lover?"

"No," he returned, his voice gravelly and deep, "we never have."

She quickly told the waiter to charge the dinner check to her account, then opened her purse and placed a few bills onto the table. Elisa Danton seemed to take it as a matter of course that he wanted the same thing she did. A night of passion, no expectations, no promises of tomorrow or talk of yesterdays he didn't remember. Hell, maybe she was right. Sitting here in this restaurant, in this darkened booth, he was suddenly overcome with an overwhelming yearning. He couldn't explain it. He only knew that he didn't want to go home alone, again.

Sliding from the booth, he followed her through the crowded restaurant and out onto the street. Silently he motioned for a cab which arrived all too quickly. As he held the door open for Elisa, she paused and nuzzled against him. He felt the tantalizingly light touch of her lips on his neck as she whispered softly, "Well, lover, what are we waiting for?"

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

~~IX~~

 _Run! Run! She needed to run. The door was there, just ahead of her, if only she could reach it. 'Help me,' she tried to say, but the words choked her. Something smelled so funny . . ._

 _The night air had a bitter chill to it now. A fire would feel so good, but she only had one match . . . It was waterproof, but the fog was getting so thick . . . 'Don't let the fire get too big,' a voice warned. 'They might find us.' Find us . . ._

 _Will Billy find us?_

 _She was running, running . . . she had to keep running. Was she alone or was someone beside her? Someone . . . something . . . tugged on her wrist. Was she chained?_

 _Run, run, she needed to run!_

 _Or maybe she didn't. His arms were so warm . . . and she was so cold. 'I just want you to know,' she started to say, but something stopped her. What? What did he need to know?_

"Mommy. Mommy."

A relentless tugging on her shoulder pulled Amanda out of a fitful sleep. "Mommy, wake up," a small voice repeated insistently.

She rolled over, the vivid dream images blurring into nothingness as she looked into a pair of hazel eyes. "Emily, what are you doing out of bed? What time is it?" She sat up and squinted sleepily at her clock-radio. "Honey, it's not even seven o'clock yet. You should still be asleep."

"Where's Daddy?" Emily asked, not about to be sidetracked.

"He's not in Phillip and Jamie's room?" Amanda asked, trying to buy herself some time.

"No." Emily peered over her mother's shoulder hopefully, as if she might find her father in the other half of the bed. Her lower lip trembled as she asked, "Didn't he come home?"

Amanda sighed. How could she tell her daughter that at the present time, this bedroom was the least likely place on earth Lee was to be found? She'd had enough difficulty getting Emily to go to bed the night before without Lee there to read a story and tuck her in.

Throwing back the quilt, she scooted over and patted the mattress. "Come here, sweetheart."

Emily's face broke into a smile as she climbed into bed and snuggled against her mother.

"You know Daddy has a really important job," Amanda began, tucking the covers around the two of them.

Emily nodded. "Uh-huh."

"And sometimes that means that Daddy has to stay away overnight. Even when we don't want him to."

"But I want him to be home with us. I made him a picture yesterday at preschool, and he didn't even see it." Her voice quivered, and she drew a little closer to her mother.

"I know, kitten; I know." Amanda sighed and smoothed her daughter's sleep tangled curls. "And Daddy wants to be with you, too, but sometimes he just can't."

"Is he coming home tonight?" Emily persisted.

Despite everything, Amanda had to smile. She had no doubt where Emily had inherited her questioning technique; maybe they should forget about enrolling her in kindergarten next year and find her a position at the Agency instead.

"I don't know," she said truthfully. "I think so." He'd be there if she had anything to say about it. It was one thing to turn his back on his marriage, but his daughter was another matter entirely. "Look, why don't you go get dressed, and I'll make you special blueberry pancakes for breakfast."

"Okay." Emily threw her arms around Amanda's neck in a tight hug. "I love you, Mommy."

"I love you too, Em." Amanda watched as her daughter scampered out of the room. It was true, she thought with a sudden pang of her heart. She still found herself amazed at the depth of feeling she had for this little girl whom she'd met only a few short weeks ago. And there was no way on earth she'd just stand by and let her be hurt.

She didn't care if Lee decided to walk out on her, she told herself stubbornly, after all, she barely knew the man. It wasn't as if he'd leave a gaping hole in her life if he wasn't there, now, would he? But she refused to let him break Emily's heart. She'd just have to sit him down and make him realize his responsibilities. One husband who'd decided to abandon his children was quite enough for her.

"And that's the latest in news and sports."

Amanda jumped at the sudden voice then realized it was the clock-radio. She reached out to shut it off, pausing as the announcer's next words sank in. "We'll be right back with the AccuWeather report with Dean the Weather Machine McGuire. But first a message from Mr. Emelio's Spa and Salon."

How strange was that. She'd been thinking about Dean just the evening before. And now here he was doing the weather. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to talk to someone who had been part of the life that seemed so immediate to her, regardless of the fact that it was actually almost ten years in the past. She could easily contact him through the station or leave a message for him to call her. She hesitated for a moment, then put out a hand and reached for the telephone.

~ ~ SMK ~ ~

"Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in."

The words reverberated through him, but the voice didn't sound like Amanda's. It must be . . .

"Francine," he groaned as he rubbed his encrusted eyes and forced them to open. He squinted as the light smacked him squarely in the face. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I work here," she said with a laugh that sounded a little too much like nails on a chalkboard. "And so do you – although, I think that point's debatable at the moment. What the hell happened to you? You look like you've been through the wringer and back again."

"Yeah, well, you ought to see it from this side," he moaned, struggling to achieve a sitting position. His back was killing him – the springs on this old couch must be shot. He tried to lick his dry lips, but his tongue felt as if it was glued to the roof of his mouth. And his head . . . oh, God, his head . . . there must be a jackhammer pounding inside it.

He groaned and leaned back against the sofa. "I don't suppose you'd take pity on me and see if there's any soda in the fridge."

"Sure, for a small price." Francine snickered as she walked over to the refrigerator in the corner of the office. "I want all the dirty details, Scarecrow. Spill it – now."

With a teasing smile, she popped open a bright red can of Coke and held it tantalizingly out of his reach.

He leaned forward and wrestled it from her grasp, drinking greedily to assuage his massive thirst. "This must be good," he heard Francine chortle. "I haven't seen you in such bad shape since Beaman threw you that belated bachelor party."

He rubbed his pounding temples. "You came to my bachelor party? What did you do, jump out of the cake?"

"Very funny. If you must know, I was your official chauffeur. I delivered you safely back into the arms of your loving wife when it was all over." Francine laughed. "Come to think of it, on that particular morning after, you were in even worse shape. You actually looked as green as you felt."

He tried to shoot her a murderous glare but in his present condition all he could manage was a weak frown. He'd actually felt worse than this? That must have been one hell of a party. And what did she mean, she brought him back to his wife? Francine must be more confused than he was – a bachelor party took place before the wedding, not after.

He sighed as he crumpled the empty can then tossed it in the trash. It landed with a loud rattle, and he instinctively brought his hand to his head. "I will never, never drink again. Scout's honor."

Francine rolled her eyes. "Here," she said, finally taking pity on him and handing him a wet towel. "I thought you might need this, so I stopped off in the ladies' room on my way up here."

"Thanks, Francine," he murmured as the cool, wet cloth began to revive him. "You're a real pal."

"I thought maybe you could use one of those, too." She smiled wryly. "Amanda must be pretty angry with you. No wonder she's working down in the bullpen."

The bullpen . . . Billy . . . He sprang to his feet, suddenly feeling all too sober. "What time is it, Francine?"

"Almost noon. And yes, Billy sent me up here for those forms, Scarecrow. You remember, don't you? The ones you were supposed to have on his desk first thing this morning?"

Lee groaned again at Francine's grin; she was having entirely too much fun at his expense. "They're over there, somewhere," he grumbled, indicating the mess of files littering his desk. "I came in last night to finish them up, but somehow I don't think I ever got around to it."

She picked up a neat stack of papers. "They're right here on top. Hmm, for a man who doesn't remember filling out a form, these appear to be pretty complete. Looks like someone decided to pull your backside out of the fire."

Lee frowned. Someone . . . Amanda? He had a vague recollection of someone moving around the office earlier. He distinctly recalled the sweet scent of lilacs. He thought he'd been dreaming. Lee combed his fingers through his tousled hair; hell, maybe he had been at that.

The door opened with what sounded like an angry screech, and Lee winced. Amanda marched in, pointedly ignoring him as she pulled out her chair. She murmured a vague greeting to Francine as she sat down at her desk.

"I think I'll just get these forms down to Billy," Francine put in quickly, her eyes widening as she looked from Amanda to Lee. Mouthing a quick 'good luck,' she ducked out the door.

"Ah, hi," Lee said, hoping his voice sounded more upbeat than he felt.

"Good morning," she muttered under her breath without looking up. "Or should I say afternoon?"

Lee tried to moisten his dry lips, but it didn't seem to do any good. Moaning softly, he ran his hands over his unshaven face and rubbed his eyes. Damn, he must look even worse than he felt. He glanced down at his attire. His pants were wrinkled, his shirt was half unbuttoned and his jacket was lying in a heap on the floor.

What the hell had happened last night? The last thing he recalled with any clarity was heading into a bar on M Street after he'd put Elisa Danton into that cab.

He took a few tentative steps forward, gingerly testing the water. "Uh, thanks for filling out the paperwork. I came back to the Agency to finish up, but I guess I must have, uh, fallen asleep on the job."

She raised her dark brown eyes and sent a piercing look in his direction. If the expression on her face was any indication, Amanda had passed angry hours ago and was well on her way to furious. Damn . . . he had a feeling that was one experience he didn't mind forgetting.

"I was going to come home," he began, "but it was so late . . . you know how hard it is to get a cab around here."

"You could have called."

"I'm sorry," he tried again. "I just needed a little . . ." He cleared his throat as Amanda's eyebrows shot up. The words sounded lame, even to him. How could he tell her what he needed when he didn't even know himself?

He watched her rise stiffly from her desk. "If you don't care what I think, you could have at least given a thought to your daughter," she said, a chill hanging on the edges of her words. "Emily was really worried when you didn't come home. And, believe me, I had a pretty hard time explaining your absence to her this morning."

Emily . . . He had a sudden picture of his daughter sitting on the sofa, her hazel eyes glued to the door as she waited for him. Emily . . . he'd really blown it this time.

"I really am sorry," he said with as much sincerity as he could muster through the fog of his hangover. "I'll make it up to her tonight, I promise."

He wanted to tell Amanda that he'd make it up to her, too, but somehow the words wouldn't come. "Hey, listen," he said, sidling over to her with an air of nonchalance. "Do you maybe want to go somewhere and talk? We could get something to eat, maybe at Ned's."

"Isn't that the official Agency hangout? Well, that would certainly be quiet, and I'm sure we could talk there. Besides," she added, her sarcasm turning to venom, "you look as if you've already seen enough of the bars in D.C."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Come on, Amanda. We really should discuss this . . ."

"Discuss this?" Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "That's just great! **You** discuss this - I'm going out."

"Out where?" he demanded with as much indignation as he could muster.

She glowered at him then turned away. "I'm meeting someone," she told him without elaborating as she grabbed her purse. "See you later."

Lee jumped as the door slammed shut behind her. He stood for a moment in the crushing silence trying to figure out what had just happened. Had Amanda really walked out in the middle of his apology?

Yeah, well, maybe she did have a point; maybe he **should** have called. It's just that he wasn't used to checking in with someone else, that's all.

Still, he hadn't been a total ass. He'd turned Elisa down, after all. Sent her home alone. There weren't many men in this town who could say as much.

Where the hell was Amanda going, anyway? A meeting, she'd said. That could be dangerous, especially in her condition. I mean, she had amnesia, for Pete's sake. The picture of Ling Mai flickered through his mind. What if she got into trouble out there on her own?

Lee straightened. There was only one solution; he'd just have to follow her. After all, he owed it to Emily to make sure that her mother was safe.

Grabbing his wrinkled sport coat, he shouldered into it and sprinted out the door. With any luck, he'd catch up to her in no time, and she'd never even know it.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

~~ X ~~

"Amanda, over here."

She turned at the sound of Dean's voice and saw him standing by a table near the window. She smiled and picked her way through the crowded restaurant.

"You look great," he said, running his eyes over her appreciatively as she sat down.

"Thank you. Um, you too," she replied trying to inject as much sincerity as she could into her words. In truth it was a bit of a shock to see how much he'd changed. His midsection was noticeably thicker than she recalled, and his hair was rapidly thinning out on top. But that really wasn't fair, she reminded herself. After all, the man she remembered dating had aged nine years in what seemed to her to be just a few weeks.

Still, she couldn't help but think that Lee looked pretty darn good in comparison. Even with a hangover. On a scale of one to ten, he was a definite 'eleven.' Shaking off the weird flash that ran through her, she focused her attention on her lunch companion. She'd had quite enough of Lee Stetson at the moment, thank you very much.

"So," Dean said, after they'd made their selection from the lunch menu. "I have to say I was surprised to hear from you this morning. It's been a long time."

"I guess I'm just feeling a bit nostalgic," Amanda replied. "I heard you on the radio and something just made me pick up the phone."

"We did have some good times, didn't we? Remember when I fixed Jamie's skateboard and your mother's date nearly broke his neck on it?" Dean laughed. "How are the boys doing, anyway?"

"I can hardly believe how much they've grown," Amanda replied truthfully. "Phillip's a junior at Penn State and Jamie's in his first year at William and Mary."

"Those are really good schools; sounds like you did a great job with them."

"I have a little girl now too – Emily. She just turned five in December." Amanda dug out her wallet and proudly displayed a snapshot of Emily and her brothers.

"Wow, so you're starting all over again." Dean politely admired the picture then handed it back. "I'm not sure I could do that. At this point in my life I'm beginning to look ahead to retirement, not attending school concerts."

"So, what about you? What's been going on in your life?" She picked up her water glass and took a sip.

"Nothing too spectacular. I've been divorced for six months now, no kids, probably for the best."

She shook her head. "You were always wonderful with the boys, Dean, I'm sure you'd have made a great father."

"I really would have liked to have had that chance," he replied. "I always thought those boys of yours were terrific kids." His expression was wistful, and she wondered why he and his wife hadn't had children.

"So why didn't it work between us?" she asked before she could stop herself.

He snorted. "You're asking me? Amanda, I was crazy about you. I'm the one who wanted to get married, remember? It was you who said it wasn't working out, that you had to find something more."

No, she didn't remember any of that. She wondered how long into her memory gap the breakup had occurred but she could hardly ask him. How insulting would that sound, that she couldn't even remember calling it off?

"I'm sorry," she said, looking down and twisting her napkin in her lap. "I never meant to hurt you."

"Well, it was a long time ago." He sighed. "Water under the bridge and all that. Besides, we're here together now, so why don't we just enjoy our lunch and get to know each other again."

She sighed. Dean really had deserved better than he had gotten with her. 'Something more' . . . that must have really hurt. It was right up there with empty apologies and 'just needing a little' . . . She let out a loud sigh. What was with that man, anyway? Was she always supposed to be filling in the blanks?

She forced her attention back to Dean. He really was a nice man. He'd always been attentive, caring and he got along with her mother and the boys . . . what more could she possibly have been looking for?

She remembered one evening in particular. Her mother had unexpectedly gone out and Amanda had called Dean to let him know that he'd have to cancel the dinner reservations he'd made months earlier. Dean hadn't said a word of complaint but had cheerfully spent the evening playing games with the boys. Then after Phillip and Jamie had gone to bed, she and Dean had snuggled down in front of the fire in the den. He'd looked so handsome in his suit and silk tie, she hadn't been able to keep her hands off him. They'd waited so long for this night, to be finally, truly alone. There had been so many interruptions in the past; someone always seemed to come along just when they were about to. . .

Suit? Silk tie? Amanda opened her eyes and shook her head. Dean didn't wear clothes like that. Was this a new symptom of her amnesia, her mind distorting memories of the times she did remember?

"I wonder what's taking that chambermaid so long?" she said, twisting in her seat and looking across the room.

"Chambermaid?" Dean asked quizzically. "Amanda, are you alright?"

"Waitress, I mean, waitress," Amanda corrected herself.

"Amanda, are you feeling okay?" Dean asked anxiously. "You're looking a little flushed."

"I'm fine," she replied quickly. "I'm just going to go to the ladies room for a minute. I'll be right back."

She got up and slowly crossed the room, her mind spinning. Chambermaid? Where on earth had that thought come from? Had she experienced a flash of an actual memory or was her mind more confused than ever?

A busboy hurrying past with a full tray of dishes brushed against her, half pushing her into a booth. Its occupant quickly darted behind a menu, but not before she'd caught a glimpse of his face.

"Lee?" she asked incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

"Having lunch," he said defensively. "What else would I be doing here?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Spying on me, maybe? I don't believe you!" Several people turned to stare and she realized she must have spoken more loudly than she had intended. "How dare you follow me," she lowered her voice and hissed at him.

"That's ridiculous," Lee shot back. "Why would I follow you? You don't owe me anything, you can go wherever you want and see whomever you want."

"That's right, I can. Especially on a day when I arrive at work to find you passed out and with lipstick on your shirt." She pointed at the pale pink marks still visible on Lee's collar. "Now I'd appreciate it if you'd leave me alone while I get on with my own life."

"Amanda." Dean suddenly appeared at her side. "Is everything okay? Who is this guy?"

"I'm her husband." Lee got up and pulled himself to his full height. "So why don't you just keep out of this."

"Husband?" Dean asked, blankly. He turned to Amanda. "When you called me up and asked me out to lunch I thought you were divorced. And," he gestured at her hand, "you're not wearing a wedding ring."

"I'm sorry, Dean, I didn't mean to . . ."

"Save it, Amanda," Dean replied. "I have no intention of heading down that old road again." Shaking his head, he looked first at Amanda, then Lee. "You two really deserve each other." He turned and walked out of the restaurant without a backward glance.

"Quite the catch, isn't he?" Lee sneered.

Amanda whirled to face him. "Oh, just . . . I . . . just leave me alone," she threw at him before heading back to the table to collect her purse.

Lee was waiting for her outside the restaurant. "Amanda, I really am sorry . . ."

"Yeah, so you keep telling me. Give me the car keys." She was in no mood to listen to anything he had to say.

"What?"

"Give me the car keys. That is the BMW parked over there, isn't it? I don't feel like walking. And don't even think about riding with me!"

As he handed her the keys, she shot one more contemptuous glance his way before getting into the car and driving off in the direction of the Agency.

~ ~ SMK ~ ~

The persistent throbbing behind his eyes had been upgraded to a full scale pounding by the time the cab pulled into the driveway on Maplewood. Of course, that scene on M Street outside the restaurant certainly hadn't helped matters any. Neither had the lipstick on his collar, for that matter. Or being caught red-handed spying on her.

Then again, if she hadn't been sneaking around behind his back to meet that idiot Dean, he wouldn't have had to spy, now, would he? And even if he had eaten dinner with Elisa Danton last night, well, that had been an accident, right? He hadn't actively sought out his past.

What had Amanda ever seen in that joker, anyway? He never could picture the two of them together. The guy was such a loser. Take that sweater he'd been wearing. Lee snorted; even he knew it had gone out of style years ago, and he had amnesia! And the way he kept fawning over Amanda . . . that's why he'd had to give Francine a hurried call on his cellphone and wheedle her into running a quick background check. It had come back clean, but with someone like Dean McGuire, you could never be sure. Maybe he should give that pal of his over at the I.R.S. a quick call.

And then she'd had the nerve to be irate over the whole episode! Lee's first instinct had been to follow Amanda back to the Agency, to try to explain again, but at the last minute he'd hailed a cab and headed home. He didn't need any more drama at the moment. What he needed was some aspirin, a shower and a nap, in that order.

Opening the door, he stepped into the cool foyer, glad to be out of the bright sunlight. He closed his eyes and stood there for a few seconds, rubbing his forehead, grateful to have finally found a little peace and quiet.

"Oh, Lee. You're home."

He opened his eyes to the sight of Dotty standing in the entrance to the den. Her arms were folded across her chest as she looked him over from head to toe. Her lips tightened as she took note of his rumpled appearance. Without uttering a word, she turned on her heel and walked back into the kitchen.

He found her sitting at the table, sipping some coffee as she read the paper. "I've made a fresh pot," she said from behind her copy of the Post. "You look like you could use a cup."

Lee leaned back wearily against the counter. There was no escaping his domestic situation, it seemed. If it wasn't Amanda, it was her mother. What was she doing in his kitchen, anyway? Didn't the woman have her own apartment?

"Emily's upstairs," Dotty stated as if in answer to his unspoken question. "The preschool called me to come pick her up. Evidently she's not feeling well."

His brow furrowed. "Emily's sick?"

Dotty sighed from behind her paper, then slowly folded it and set in on the table. Lee felt her eyes roam over him again, resting for a minute on his shirt collar. One eyebrow shot up, but she didn't say anything. Still, the message was loud and clear.

He had to admire her technique; Dotty West could definitely give the Agency interrogators a few pointers.

"I don't think Emily's really sick at all," she said, finding her voice at last. "But I think she is starting to worry about her mom and dad." Her expression grew clouded as she looked at him. "Children need security, Lee."

He started to explain, but she cut him off with a shake of her head. "That's all I'm going to say on the subject. Goodness knows, I've never been one of those interfering mother-in-laws, and I certainly have no intention of starting at this point in my life."

Walking to the sink, she quickly rinsed her cup. "And now that you're home," she continued, "maybe I won't have to miss my bridge tournament after all. It's the semi-finals, you know, and George Miller can't tell a spade from a club without me." She paused at the back door. "You can manage to watch your daughter this afternoon, can't you?" she asked pointedly.

Lee bit his lip and nodded.

"Good. She's taking a nap, so she shouldn't be too much bother. I'll see you later, dear."

Lee stood and watched as the door close behind her. He was in the doghouse all around, it seemed. First, Amanda, then, Dotty and, finally, Emily. Emily . . . who really was the innocent victim in this whole mess.

With as little noise as possible, he climbed the stairs and checked on his sleeping daughter. She looked so little lying in the middle of her wide, canopied bed, clutching her rather dog-eared bunny. Her 'princess' bed, she proudly called it. He stood for a minute watching the even rise and fall of her chest. The ends of her hair were slightly damp; Dotty must have given her a bath. She appeared to be resting peacefully, no worries troubling her sleep. Lee sighed as he backed out the door. If only the same could be said for her waking hours.

He couldn't think about that right now. What he needed was a long, hot shower to clear his head then maybe he could take a stab at fixing things. In the boys' room he quickly stripped off his suit and shirt, adding them to the growing pile on Phillip's bed. Remembering that Emily was just down the hall, he wrapped himself in his robe and headed into the main bathroom. A little steam would be just what the doctor ordered to get rid of this hung-over feeling. Yes, indeed . . .

The irreverent squawk took him off guard. He instinctively reached behind him for his gun, only to realize that he was unarmed in the bathroom, and the perpetrator was none other than a small rubber duck. Rolling his eyes, he snatched up the offending toy, intending to stash it with the rest of Emily's bath things. To his dismay he found that the bath bucket was empty and all of Emily's toys were strewn across the bottom of the tub.

Exhaling loudly, he stepped into the tub to retrieve the scattered toys. "Damnit," he exclaimed before he could stop himself as his bare foot came into contact with the edge of a small plastic boat. Thankful he hadn't woken Emily, he leaned against the tile and rubbed his smarting skin, glaring down at the toy. What was a dangerous thing like that doing in a five-year-old's bath, anyway? He angrily picked it up and tossed it in the trash, his frown deepening as he stared at the littered tub.

This was absolutely ridiculous. What the hell was he doing showering in here with all this paraphernalia, when there was a perfectly good bathroom right down the hall? After all, it was **his** shower, too, wasn't it? What right did Amanda have to hog it? Besides, she was at work; she'd never even know. And possession **was** nine-tenths of the law.

Grabbing his shaving kit, he crept through Amanda's bedroom and into her bathroom. As he turned the shower on, he found himself smiling at the increased water pressure. Now this was more like it. He hummed pleasantly as he shaved, without so much as one set of beady plastic eyes watching him, then dropped his robe on the floor and stepped beneath the water.

A few more minutes under the steamy spray and he might actually begin to feel human again. Yes, his day was definitely starting to improve.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

~~ XI ~~

What a thoroughly hideous day, Amanda reflected as she headed up the stairs with a sigh. She should never have called and left that message for Dean. It had been such bad timing that he'd returned her call not ten minutes after she'd arrived at the office and found Lee passed out on the sofa. Then the disaster at lunch. The nerve of the man, following her around as if she were under investigation.

The afternoon hadn't gone much better. The only remotely positive thing was that Lee had had the good sense to keep out of her way. Still, she'd found it almost impossible to concentrate on anything. Spilling coffee on her blouse and skirt had just been the coup de grace.

Luckily Billy hadn't objected at all when she'd asked if she could go home early. In fact, he seemed downright relieved. Having two married amnesiacs who couldn't be in the same room together running the Q-Section must be putting a strain on him, too. She was sure all this must have some sort of negative implications for their careers, but with their personal lives in such a shamble, she found it hard to care.

"I'm her husband." She pulled a face as she recalled Lee's words to Dean. Yeah, right. He hadn't been nearly so concerned about their marital status last night when he'd been out with . . . well, whatever mindless bimbo he'd obviously picked up.

Reaching her bedroom, Amanda quickly stripped off her stained clothing. Might as well grab the rest of the washing out of the hamper and run a load or two through the machine before heading over to the preschool to pick up Emily.

She opened the door to her bathroom, only to find Lee stepping out of the shower.

"Oh my gosh."

"Amanda!"

She felt her cheeks flaming. "Lee, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were . . . I didn't know," she stammered as Lee snatched up a towel and quickly draped it around his hips. She took a step backward out of the door, wondering why he was looking at her so strangely. Glancing down, she suddenly realized that she was clad only in her bra and panties.

She hurriedly shut the door and grabbed a pair of jeans and a shirt from her closet. "Amanda," she heard Lee call from the bathroom.

"Give me a minute," she said, frantically throwing on her clothing. She sank down on the bed, and tried to slow her racing heartbeat. It was just the shock of coming upon Lee so unexpectedly, she told herself, nothing more. She'd have been just as startled if he'd been fully dressed.

But he hadn't been. He'd been . . . Amanda closed her eyes but opened them again almost immediately as the image of a naked Lee Stetson presented itself.

"Amanda, can I come out?" Lee called again.

"Sure," she said slowly, standing up and averting her eyes from the bathroom door.

"Amanda, relax, I've got my robe on."

She looked up. Yes, he definitely had his robe on. Of course, the deep 'v' in the folds didn't leave much to the imagination. His chest was smooth and muscled. He must get a lot of exercise. She felt herself flush again as a few specific exercise scenarios filled her mind.

"What are you doing here?" he asked matter of factly, toweling off his hair.

She gave him a hostile glare. "I live here, remember? This is **my** bedroom."

He glowered back at her. "Technically, it's mine too. I decided to use **our** shower since I thought you were still at work."

"Which is where I thought you were," Amanda rebutted. "You're the senior agent, remember? So how come I'm the only one who actually did something productive today?"

"Hey, I was damned productive. I . . ."

"Trailed a dangerous suspect?" she supplied with a sneer. "You're just lucky I was there to cover for you or Mr. Melrose would have had the pleasure of chewing you out two days in a row."

"Lucky? Lucky? Have you seen my life lately?" Lee asked sarcastically. "I don't feel particularly lucky with the way it's been going."

"Really?" she chided. "Because I thought that was exactly what had happened last night." She shot him a withering glance. "You called up one of your . . . your . . . lady friends and got lucky. So, did you come home for a quick shower before heading out on another night on the town?"

"Look who's talking," he retorted, his voice matching hers in volume. "You seemed pretty eager to pick up where you left off with your old boyfriend."

"Oh, so this is **my** fault," she shouted. "You're the one who didn't come home last night. I refuse to take the blame for this situation. No way, not this time . . ." Her voice died off.

"Buster," he finished for her in a much quieter tone. "That's what you were going to say, wasn't it?"

She nodded and sank down on the bed. "I am so tired of this . . . this half life," she said wearily, suddenly conscious of the changes in the bedroom that said it was theirs, not hers. "Remembering things I don't even remember that I remember." She buried her face in her hands.

"I know what you mean." Lee sat down beside her. "I keep having that feeling too."

She looked over at him. "Lee, what are we going to do? We can't go on like this, not knowing if we'll ever . . ."

He nodded. "Maybe it would be better if I just . . ."

A sharp whimper from the doorway drowned out Lee's unspoken suggestion. They both looked up to see Emily standing there staring at them uncertainly. Her cheeks were wet with tears and her hands were holding her stomach.

"My tummy hurts," she whispered as she turned two accusatory eyes on Lee. "I heard yelling. Daddy, why are you mad at Mommy?"

~ ~ SMK ~ ~

"'Then old Mrs. Rabbit took a basket and her umbrella, and went through the wood to the baker's,'" Lee read from the book Emily had handed him. "'Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail, who were good little bunnies, went down the lane to gather blackberries . . ."

He smiled down at his daughter who was snuggled up in bed beside him in Amanda's . . . his . . . their . . . room, her own bunny tucked securely underneath her arm. She'd demanded that he read the story to her in 'Mommy and Daddy's bed' and, after the scene the child had been privy to earlier, neither he nor Amanda had had the heart to protest.

It felt strange, though, to be lying here, in a bed he knew he'd once slept in without so much as a thought. The mattress certainly felt wonderful after the night he'd spent on the office couch, and he'd had to shake himself more than once to keep from falling asleep. The quilt was so warm . . . He'd tried to convince Emily to lie on top of the covers, but she would have none of it, stubbornly insisting that Mommy must tuck them both under the blankets. It wasn't too hard to figure out where Emily was coming from – in her own five-year-old way, his daughter was protecting her territory.

He read on for a while, checking every so often to see if she was still awake. Though her eyes had drooped on more than one occasion, as soon as he stopped reading, they popped back open again, bigger than ever. The child had the most amazing radar.

After taking a drink of water, he continued. "'Mr. McGregor came up with a sieve, which he intended to pop upon the top of Peter . . .'" Lee glanced at Emily out of the corner of his eye; she really seemed to be enjoying this drivel. The story seemed a little young for a five year old, but then what did he know. "'. . . but Peter wriggled out just in time . . .'"

He felt a tiny pressure on his arm.

"Yes, Emily?" he asked, hopefully closing the book. Maybe she'd had enough rabbits for one night. He certainly had.

"Are you and Mommy gonna be de-borced?"

Lee looked down into her solemn eyes. Suddenly those rabbits didn't seem quite so bad after all. "Who told you that?" he asked, attempting to put her off.

"Charlie Snyder. He's in my preschool class. He knows everything. Charlie says when mommies and daddies don't sleep in the same room, they have to be de-borced." Her fingers twisted the top sheet. "And then the daddies don't come home any more."

Lee frowned. "First of all, it's 'divorced,' not 'de-borced,' and I wouldn't believe everything this Charlie tells you. He doesn't seem like he knows all that much to me."

"Oh, he's really smart, Daddy! He was six years old last month! I went to his party, remember?"

"Ah, kind of."

She took a deep breath. "Charlie could be in kindergarten right now," she said, picking restlessly at the quilt, "but he had to stay in preschool another year 'cause his mommy and daddy had to be de-borced . . . divorced," she corrected herself, "and now he's motionally distorted."

"I'll bet he is," Lee mumbled under his breath. What kind of preschool was this, anyway? Didn't they even listen to what the kids were saying?

"I don't wanna stay in preschool," she continued, the tears building up in her eyes again. "I wanna go to kindergarten next year with all my friends."

Lee pulled her closer. "Of course you're going to go to kindergarten next year, Emily. You're a very smart little girl, and smart little girls always go to kindergarten." He gave her a reassuring smile. "Now, lets see if Peter gets away from Mr. McGregor, okay?"

She giggled. "Of course he does, Daddy. And after he gets in such big trouble, he promises never, never to go anywhere without backup again. That's what Mommy always says."

"Your mommy is a very smart lady," Lee said with a laugh.

Emily seemed pleased to hear that. "She's pretty, too," she said, tilting her head as she looked at him.

"Yeah, she is." From the eyeful he'd caught this afternoon, 'pretty' didn't begin to describe her.

Emily nodded. "I love Mommy."

Lee squirmed as Emily continued to stare at him. "I know you do," he said in a raspy voice. "Now, it's getting late. Since you know how this story comes out, why don't we try reading something else?"

"Anything I want?" Emily asked, her eyes brightening.

"Anything you want," he assured her, smiling as she scrambled off the bed in search of new reading material. Crisis averted, he thought with a sigh. For the moment.

He knew what she needed to hear, but he didn't want to lie to her. There were no guarantees in life, no free passes. What if they couldn't manage to nail Finch and find out exactly what formulation of gas he'd used on them? What if McJohn couldn't come up with an antidote? Stories didn't always have a happy ending. Sometimes, no matter how much you want it to be otherwise, you end up being dragged all over the world by a man who doesn't even like you.

Lee took a deep breath. That wasn't going to happen to his daughter, not if he had anything to say about it. He and Amanda had cared for each other - he only had to look at Emily to know it was true. It was obvious she had been raised in a house filled with love.

Until recently.

"Here, Daddy, read this one," Emily ordered as she crawled back into bed beside him.

He put an arm around her and pulled her closer. He and Amanda had fallen in love once – maybe they could again. At least, he could try. He owed his daughter that much.

"Come on, Daddy," she urged, "it's my favorite."

He opened the back cover of the book and took a quick glance. 205 pages! As he looked down at the pint-sized con artist snuggling against his side, Lee had the distinct impression that he'd been had. Taking a deep breath, he began to read.

"'The Mole had been working very hard all morning, spring-cleaning his little home . . .'"

~ ~ SMK ~ ~

"Lee, I think it might be better if you moved out."

Amanda carried a tray of milk and cookies down the hall as she mentally rehearsed what she wanted to say to Lee. No, she shouldn't sound as if it was just a matter of her own opinion. "Lee, it would be better for everyone concerned if you found another place to live." Yes, that was much better.

She paused before the door. And it was what she wanted, wasn't it? It would be so much better for Emily if she didn't have to see them at odds with each other. And it wasn't as if she'd be keeping Lee and Emily apart. I mean, Lee wouldn't be moving to another continent. They could still spend lots of time together. Lee had made it very clear that he wanted to go back to his old way of life, so why should they pretend? It was just a matter of the two of them owning up to what they really wanted.

Bracing herself, she pushed open the door with her shoulder. "Okay," she said brightly, "who wants milk and . . . cookies?" she finished in a much quieter tone, taking in the sight in front of her. Lee and Emily were both fast asleep, 'The Wind in the Willows' lying open on the covers. Lee had his arm curled around Emily, who was cuddled closely against him.

Her expression softened as she continued to stare at the picture they presented. Emily certainly loved her father, and it was just as evident that Lee felt the same way about her. She had a sudden picture of Phillip and Jamie at the same age; another continent or another house, it was all the same to a child. Gone was gone.

Amanda sighed and left the room. Suddenly she was no longer quite so sure that what she wanted was the right thing.

She was sitting on the couch half an hour later when Lee came down the stairs, stretching himself and yawning. "Emily's asleep," he announced. "Poor kid, she's had a rough day."

"I know." She hesitated for a moment, then plunged in. "Lee, I've been thinking about us."

"Me, too." He sat down beside her on the couch and looked over expectantly.

"I know we said we shouldn't rush into anything, but it's been two weeks and nothing's changed."

"Amanda, I think we should give it another try," he broke in.

"For Emily's sake, I know." She might have known he'd look at it this way.

"No . . . not just for Emily's sake." He got up, crossed the room and took a picture frame off the bookcase. After handing it to Amanda, he sat back down. "For their sake," he said, his voice suddenly quiet.

Amanda looked at the picture in her hands. It was a montage of photos from Jamie's high school graduation. There was Jamie, standing tall and proud in his cap and gown. Dotty, dwarfed between her two grandsons. Emily trying on Jamie's mortarboard. Finally, Lee and Amanda, with their arms around each other, looking like all the other set of parents, so proud of their son.

"Don't you see," Lee said. "This amnesia thing, it didn't just happen to us – it happened to them, too. Everyone in the family has been affected by this."

She looked at him in confusion. "But I thought . . . you want to see other people."

Lee shook his head and sighed. "Amanda, I'm really sorry about that. And I know it looked bad. I just . . ." He looked around the room restlessly. "I don't know. Everything was suddenly feeling so strange, it was like . . . I felt like I'd totally lost touch with who I used to be."

"And your solution was to go out and get drunk?" Her jaw clenched. "Not to mention somehow ending up with lipstick on your shirt."

He ran his hand through his hair. "Okay, I did end up running into an old girlfriend," he admitted. "But nothing happened. I swear."

"I wish I could believe that," Amanda said quietly. "I keep thinking that what you really want is to get your old life back, and I don't know if I can trust you."

Lee's hazel eyes looked steadily into hers. "I know." He indicated the photo she still clutched in her hands. "But I think that **she** would have trusted **him**."

"It's like those were two totally different people." She sighed and looked away. "Lee, remember, just the other week? Okay, I know it wasn't just the other week, but it feels that way to me."

He laughed lightly. "I know what you mean."

"You called me here at the house and Philip answered the phone. He asked if you were Dean, and you said . . ."

"Not in a thousand years." Lee nodded his head and leaned against the back of the couch. "I remember."

"Well," she said, looking up at him. "It hasn't been a thousand years since then. It's only been nine."

"True. But, Amanda, look around you. This isn't just your house anymore. It's ours. And that's our daughter asleep upstairs in our room. Something must have happened to change the way things were. And whatever it was, it must have been pretty special."

She looked down at the picture of the two of them again. They really did look so happy together. "I think," she said slowly, "that they were two really lucky people."

He rested his hand tentatively on her arm. "Then why don't we try and find out how they got that way. Two weeks ago we thought we should just wait and see what happened. Well, this time I think we need to make a decision. Amanda, you said you thought that I wanted my old life back again. And I do. But not in the way you meant." He nodded at the photos. "I want that old life back."

He gave her arm a gently squeeze. "So what do you say, Amanda? Should we give this a real try?"

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

Part Three

~~ XII ~~

"So, I guess that's about the long and the short of it," Billy informed them with a grimace. "It's been a little over four weeks and we're still no closer to cracking Brody's network and nailing Finch than we were when all this started."

"Or to finding an antidote, I'm guessing." Lee exhaled loudly as he looked at Billy. "Has McJohn made any progress at all?"

Billy shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. In fact, his latest attempt . . . well, let's just say the results were less than stellar."

"Wonderful."

"You might as well tell us the whole story, sir," Amanda put in quickly. Lee couldn't help but notice the beginnings of a frown as she caught his eye. "I think in this case we have a definite need to know.

Melrose clenched his mouth tighter and nodded. "McJohn and his team thought they had something yesterday, but it turned out to be another, uh, dead end."

Something in Billy's tone set off Lee's alarm bells. "Just how dead was that end?"

"The formulation of the serum appeared to be correct, but, unfortunately, the test subject died."

Lee jumped up from his desk and began to pace. "That's just great," he spat out, losing the battle to keep his temper in check. "The top scientific minds in this country and all they can manage to do is kill white mice! Gee, thanks, Billy, we really appreciate you coming up to the Q-Section to give us that happy news."

"I'm sure they're doing the best they can, Lee."

The sound of Amanda's voice deflated his anger, and he slowly exhaled. "I'm sorry," he said to no one in particular. "I know McJohn's doing the best he can. It's just damn . . . frustrating." He sat down behind his desk again.

"Believe me, I know," his boss and friend murmured almost apologetically. "And if there was any way I could put you both back on full duty, I would. But my hands are tied. Under the present circumstances, Dr. Smyth won't even consider it."

"It's okay, Billy. You've gone out on a limb for us more than once over the years. Don't ask me how I know that," Lee said as he saw the confusion on his friend's face, "but I do."

He looked over at Amanda, who met his gaze with a soft smile of her own. He knew she'd been experiencing the same phenomenon herself over the past few weeks. Not memories, really, but sensory perceptions, inexplicable things that somehow felt right. The more things they did together, as a family, the stronger those feelings became.

As his boss cleared his throat, Lee realized that he must have been staring into space. He turned to Billy with a slightly sheepish grin. "Amanda and I have every agent in the Q-Section working on this Brody-Finch thing," he assured him. "They're good agents; we'll get a break soon."

"Yes," Billy said, a small smile playing around his lips as he looked from Lee to Amanda. "I'm confident that you will. And now I'd better get back to my own office. Keep me posted."

"Yes, sir, we will," Amanda promised.

"Lee, Amanda . . ." Billy paused at the door and took a deep breath. "I know this situation hasn't been easy for either of you. I just wanted to say that I appreciate the job you've been doing up here these past couple of weeks."

"Thanks," Lee said as he locked eyes with his partner. "That's good to hear."

"Yes, thank you, sir."

Melrose smiled. "Well, I'll just let you two get back to work."

As the door closed, Amanda turned back to her computer. She really had an amazing way with that damn box, Lee thought as he continued to watch her. In the past few days she'd managed to follow a convoluted paper trail through Brody's old network with relative ease. It had given them more than a few leads . . . leads that he'd been forced to let other agents follow up. He sighed, trying to focus his attention on his own desk.

"What?"

He looked up to find her eyes filled with concern. When did she learn to read his moods like that? "Oh, it's nothing. It's just getting harder and harder to sit this one out, you know?"

"'Self-control is a mark of maturity,'" she replied with a faint smile.

"Don't remind me," he said, rolling his eyes. Emily's preschool was currently doing a unit on feelings and their daughter seemed to have a new catchphrase every day. Self-control . . . he could only imagine what the infamous Charlie Snyder could make out of that one. At least the kid seemed to be keeping his cockamamie theories to himself these days.

Or maybe Emily wasn't bothered by what he had to say anymore. He and Amanda had been working hard to make her feel more secure. The book he'd picked up on child development had emphasized how important that was, so they'd been filling her days with family outings. Museums, videos, even dinner at McDonald's - complete with a trip to playland. He still had a bruise from where he'd bumped his shin on that replica of Hamburglar, but Emily had been in heaven.

Truth be told, he'd been enjoying every minute of it. Like the book said, being a parent was hard work – but it was also a lot of fun. He'd actually started to look forward to going home to Emily every night. Not to mention Emily's mother . . .

Amanda's groan reminded him that the day was far from over. "You know, I don't think you have the market on frustration anymore," she said as she leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. "I'm not getting anywhere with this thing today."

"Maybe you need a break," Lee suggested, eyeing her speculatively. "We could grab some lunch."

"I've got an awful lot of files here to get through."

"I know, I do, too. I really hate paperwork," he moaned. "Well, maybe tonight . . ."

Amanda shook her head. "Tonight's pizza night, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." Emily wanted to help make them a special dinner and he'd convinced her that pizza was his favorite. It seemed a better alternative than her suggestion of 'Duckula' Nathan Hale. Someone should convince Dotty to toss those old Colonial Cookery recipes of hers once and for all.

He heard Amanda sigh once more as she returned to her task. She stared at the screen with an expression of such intense concentration that Lee found himself utterly unable to focus on his own work. Her cheeks were suffused with a faint blush as he continued to study her, as if she somehow knew the effect she was having on him.

He had to admit things had certainly improved between the two of them since they'd both agreed to give their relationship a chance. But while it was evident she enjoyed the family outings with Emily, it was equally apparent that she was reluctant to be alone with him. Lee wasn't sure if it was him she still didn't trust, or herself. Whatever it was, he needed to do something about it.

He walked over to her desk and perched on the edge, his shadow falling between Amanda and the computer screen. "I've been thinking," he said, inclining his body slightly towards hers as she looked up. "Tomorrow night is Friday."

"Yes," she said, a smile tugging at her lips, "I've heard it usually comes right after Thursday."

"You see, I knew there had to be a reason we were partners," he teased. "Nothing slips by you."

She leaned back and swiveled slightly in her chair. "What are you up to, Scarecrow?"

"Nothing. I just thought that since we don't have any paperwork to do on Friday night, it might be nice to go out."

Amanda nodded. "There's no preschool on Saturday. Aladdin's still playing at the Arlington Theater and I know Emily's been dying to see it."

"Yeah, that's right, she has," Lee said, deflated.

"What's the matter?" Amanda asked, her eyes sparkling. "Afraid Princess Jasmine might be a little much for you to handle?"

Lee responded with a grin. "Well, as hot as Princess Jasmine might be, I wasn't thinking about spending this particular evening with her."

"No, Lee, I have to draw the line somewhere. We are not taking our daughter to see 'Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot.' I think that hits just a little too close to home, don't you?"

He groaned and leaned closer. "You don't intend to make this easy for me, do you? I'm trying to ask you out on a date, and you know it."

"A date?" Her eyebrows shot up and he thought he caught a hint of a tremor in her voice.

"Yes," he replied firmly so there would be no mistaking his intention, "a date. I was thinking a nice, quiet dinner, just the two of us, with some good food and good conversation. And no shop talk. I think it's time, don't you?"

"I guess it is at that," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"Does that mean yes?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes," she said, more strongly this time. "I'd love to."

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

~~ XIII ~~

"Mother, I'm home." Amanda called out as she walked through the back door into a silent house. "Mother? Emily?" Still no answer.

Well, it was a bit early for them to be home. She'd cut her work day short in order to go home and get ready for their evening out. Their 'date' as Lee had called it.

Amanda flushed, feeling as if she was still that teenaged girl on the cheerleading squad who had a crush on the starting quarterback.

Maybe a relaxing soak in the tub would help her feel less nervous. Or maybe not. Lately every time she opened the bathroom door, all she could think about was . . . well, relaxing wasn't quite the word for it.

What was she so worried about, anyway? Lee was a grown man, not some adolescent jock. And she was certainly a long way from her cheerleading days. They were married, after all. Married . . . of course, that was the heart of the problem, wasn't it?

Vowing to put these thoughts from her mind for the moment, she checked the refrigerator for a message from her mother, but she only found Emily's latest drawing from preschool. Two stick figures stood holding the hand of a smaller one, all with big, smiling faces. 'The Happy Family' was scrawled across the top. Amanda rolled her eyes; Emily must have inherited her knack for subtlety from her grandmother.

Turning, she spotted a note and a box on the kitchen counter. Her mother must have been in a hurry, she thought as she opened the note and read: "Amanda, I'm picking Emily up after lunch and taking her to the afternoon matinee of Aladdin."

They went to the movies? Part of Amanda wished her mother would have discussed this with her earlier. Sure, it was only preschool, but she didn't want leaving school early to become a habit for Emily. Then again, her mother had been so helpful over the past few difficult weeks, she could hardly fault her if she spoiled her granddaughter a bit.

Besides, Emily had been a bit put out the night before when they'd told her that Mommy and Daddy were going out without her. She was such a daddy's girl. And who could blame her? Amnesia or not, Lee obviously adored his daughter. Amanda could see that his previous feelings for Emily were still there.

Then why did she mistrust her own feelings for him? And she didn't even want to begin to contemplate what his feelings for her might be.

Amanda turned over the bright pink box. What a truly lurid color. She idly traced the embossed logo. Rebecca's Fantasies – wasn't that the mail order company that sold intimate apparel? And why was one of their boxes lying on her kitchen counter? Really, her mother should know better than to leave this sort of thing out with a five year old in the house.

"Amanda Stetson; 4247 Maplewood Ave, Arlington, Virginia." Wait a minute; that was her name on the label, not her mother's.

Amanda picked up the box gingerly and shook it. What on earth? She glanced around as if afraid that someone might pop up in the kitchen window and see her inspecting a box of lingerie, then quickly headed up to her room.

She sat down on the bed, opened the box and extracted an envelope from the silver folds of tissue paper. Slowly she took the card out. "Only a few more weeks," she read. "I'd already bought your Christmas present, so this will have to wait for our anniversary. New York City, The Plaza, a romantic dinner and a very special dessert. Definitely worth waiting for."

Amanda could feel a warm flush spread over her cheeks. It was a disquieting feeling, getting such an intimate message from someone who in many ways didn't even exist anymore.

Letting the card slip onto the bed, she turned her attention back to the box. She pushed aside the rest of the tissue paper. Underneath she found a peach silk teddy and robe, along with matching satin slippers.

She ran her hands over the soft folds of fabric, fingering the delicate lace edging the nightgown's low neckline. It was beautiful and tasteful and . . . extremely sexy. A touching gift from a man who apparently had been very much in love with his wife.

At the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs and down the hall, Amanda hurriedly threw everything back into the box and shoved it under the bed.

"Amanda, are you in there?" Thankfully, it was her mother and not Lee who knocked on the door.

"Come on in," Amanda called, checking to make sure no part of the box was sticking out from under the dust ruffle.

"Emily and I ran into her friend Meredith and her mother at the movies. They invited Emily over for the rest of the afternoon and dinner. I thought you wouldn't mind since it would give you more time to get ready for your date."

"Mother, it's not really a date. Just dinner," Amanda protested weakly.

"Of course, dear." Dotty nodded at her knowingly as she sat down. "Amanda, you're looking a bit flushed; are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Amanda said, trying her best to sound matter of fact. "So how was your shopping trip this morning? Did you find a dress for The Eastern Star Spring Gala?

"Shopping was fine, but no, I didn't find a dress. The Ball isn't until March, so I still have some time." Her mother eyed her expectantly. "Did you get your package? The mailman delivered it this morning, and I left it out for you."

She might have known her mother wouldn't just let things drop. Amanda sighed, reached under the bed and took out the box.

"Oh, Amanda," her mother gushed as she inspected the contents. "This is just beautiful. You know," she looked up with a sharp gleam in her eye, "if you like, Emily could sleep over at my apartment tonight. You know, in case you and Lee want to . . ."

"Mother!" Amanda gasped as she hurriedly shut the box. "No, Mother, I . . . we . . . we're not ready for that."

"Then why did you buy this nightgown?" Dotty asked mildly, indicating the box Amanda still clutched in her hands.

"This wasn't my idea," Amanda protested. "Lee ordered it." Dotty raised an expressive eyebrow and she hurried to explain. "No, you don't understand, he bought it long before any of this happened," she said in a rush. "I don't know if he even thinks of me in that way anymore." She looked down at the box, absently running her index finger along the edges. "Sometimes I think if it weren't for Emily he'd have been long gone."

Dotty smiled. "Trust me, Amanda, I'm sure Lee still thinks of you that way. When I think of how the two of you were together . . ."

Amanda interrupted. "But that's the point. We're not those people anymore."

"Amanda." She looked up at her mother's sharp tone. "That's just nonsense. You might not remember everything about each other but you most certainly still are the people you were before. And neither of you would have approved of you giving up this easily. Besides, lately it's felt as if things were slowly getting back to normal."

"These past weeks have been really good," Amanda conceded. "But, if Lee and I . . . if we. . . it's just such a big step. Besides," she looked down again. "The last I remembered Lee was dating young, sexy women. Okay, they were pretty vacuous, but I'm not sure I can compete with that. I don't exactly have the body of a twenty year old any more, you know."

"Amanda," her mother broke in but she hurried on.

"What if Lee is . . . disappointed. I've given birth to three children. I've got stretch marks. Not to mention. . ."

"Not to mention what?" Dotty asked.

"There's this scar." Amanda reached up, opened the top two buttons on her blouse, and pulled aside the material revealing a length of thickened tissue running vertically over her chest.

"I know." Dotty reached out and patted her other hand. "And so does Lee."

"No, that's the problem, he doesn't know. Not anymore." She momentarily wondered how much of a glimpse Lee had gotten during the whole bathroom fiasco. She'd closed the door pretty quickly but still . . . Something in her mother's expression stopped her line of thought and made her ask, "Mother, how exactly did I get this scar?"

"You were shot," Dotty said levelly.

"Shot?" Amanda ran her fingers down the length of the scar. "When I signed on at the Agency, I knew it could be dangerous but I guess I never really believed that something like that would actually happen."

Her mother, however, was shaking her head. "No, it wasn't because of your job. You and Lee were out in California . . . on your honeymoon." She paused and let her words sink in. "There was an incident at the harbor, just as you drove out to see one of Lee's friends, and you were hit by a stray bullet."

"How badly was I hurt?" Amanda asked in a whisper. It seemed impossible that she had forgotten something of this magnitude. Then again, she hadn't remembered her marriage or her daughter, so this really shouldn't be a surprise.

Dotty couldn't quite look her in the eyes. "You almost died."

"And Lee was out there alone with me?" Amanda said.

"I flew out there as soon as he called me, of course," Dotty continued. "He was devastated. If he hadn't kept busy tracking down the person who was responsible, I don't know how he would have coped." She reached over and took the box out of Amanda's hands. "Amanda, Lee loves you. Right now he may not know exactly how much, but believe me, he does love you. You just have to hang on."

Amanda opened the lid of the box and stared down at the swirls of peach silk and lace. "I wish I could believe that."

"How do you feel about him?"

Amanda got up and restlessly paced around the room. "I honestly don't know. Sometimes I think how easy it would be to just let myself care about him, but . . ." She paused to run her hand along the edge of the desk that sat between the windows. Had it belonged to Lee or had they chosen it together? If only she knew for sure.

"That's just the trouble," she suddenly said aloud. "The Lee Stetson I remember was very different, and I think, maybe, so was I. We certainly weren't in love - I don't think we even liked each other very much at times," she said with a brittle laugh. "But every day I'm confronted by more and more evidence to the contrary – evidence like that teddy. And I just don't know."

"Know what, dear?"

"How to bridge the gap between the people we were and the people we became."

She felt her mother's arm go around her shoulder. "Trust whatever it is you're starting to feel and, believe me, you'll figure it out."

Amanda sighed. "I hope you're right."

"I'm a mother, Amanda, I'm always right. Now, come on, young lady, get moving," Dotty ordered benignly. "You have a date tonight."

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

~~XIV~~

"What on earth are we doing here?" Amanda asked as Lee parked the car on a side street and held open the door. "I thought we were going out to eat."

"We are."

"But this is the Botanic Garden. They don't serve dinner. Besides, it closes at dusk." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "We're not supposed to be here."

"Amanda," Lee said, struggling to hide his grin. "Would I break into the United States Botanic Garden?"

"I don't know. I seem to recall you breaking into the U.S. Post Office without so much as a second thought."

"Yeah, well, you know what they say about necessity."

Amanda raised an eyebrow. "It can get you arrested?"

"Not tonight," he assured her. Before she could protest again, he placed his hand on the small of her back and propelled her forward. Their footsteps echoed on the pavement as they made their way through Bartholdi Park. Lee watched her eyes widen as she took in the surroundings.

"I don't think I've ever been here when there hasn't been a crowd of people," she said in a voice so low he could barely hear her. "It's really beautiful."

Lee laughed. "You don't have to whisper, Amanda. The police aren't going to pop out of the bushes, I promise."

"I just feel like I'm trespassing or something."

"Well, if it bothers you that much, I suppose I could always eat and you could . . . wait in the car."

"Thanks," she replied, giving his midsection a playful slap, "but I think I'll take my chances with you. No guts, no . . ."

"Glory," he finished suddenly.

She sighed and looked away into the distance. Lee understood. Sometimes he felt that way, too. As if the memories were all there, somewhere tantalizingly close but still maddeningly out of reach. Lately it seemed as if he knew what she was going to say before she said it.

He felt the light touch of Amanda's hand on his arm. "The fountain's really beautiful, isn't it?" she said almost wistfully.

He nodded. "It was created by the sculptor of the Statue of Liberty, you know."

"I know." She smiled as she caught his eye again. "There certainly is a lot of history around here."

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice deep and low. "There is. Now, come on, we're going to be late."

She quirked an eyebrow as he urged her forward. "Late? For what?"

"For our dinner." He tapped on the door to the Conservatory and, after a slight pause, the glass door slowly slid to one side. "Right this way," he said, winking as he indicated the entrance to the Orchid Room.

Lee thought she was about to argue again, but she merely smiled and stepped through the door. That was one of the things he liked best about her, he thought as he escorted Amanda down the wooden walkway. She seemed to have an infinite ability to adapt to any situation. It was probably one of the reasons she'd come so far in the intelligence game so fast. She was what Harry Thornton used to call a natural.

"Oh my gosh, Lee!" She gasped, turning to him with a wide smile as they came to a halt in an out of the way corner. "It's beautiful."

"Surprised?" he asked, watching her with a hint of amusement as she took it all in – the colorful orchids fitted into beds of stone and moss, the twinkling lights along the wooden railing, and the candlelit table set for two.

"Surprised doesn't begin to cover it. How on earth did you manage this?"

Lee gave a short laugh. "It turns out that the new Executive Director of the Garden owes me a little favor, that's all."

Her eyes rounded as they swept over the Orchid Room again. "I'd say he owes you a pretty big favor."

Lee shrugged. "We go back quite a ways. I helped him out of a jam a few years . . . well, I guess that would be more than a few years ago now. There was this incident with a Russian ballerina and . . ." He laughed and quickly cleared his throat. "Maybe that's a story for another time. Suffice to say, the man was very grateful for my intervention. Besides, a restaurant seemed so . . . well, I wanted to bring you somewhere I've never. . . well, you know . . ." Unable to find the right words, he shrugged.

"Thank you," she said simply. "This is perfect."

She leaned against him for just a moment, and the scent of lilacs wafted over him again. His thoughts traveled immediately to their kiss on New Year's Eve. He'd behaved like a tongue-tied fool. What could he have been thinking? If that opportunity presented itself again, he wouldn't just stand there, that's for sure. Amanda really was an extraordinary woman. Beautiful, too. Why had it taken him so long to notice?

Tonight she'd put her hair up, but a few stray strands brushed the curve of her cheeks, the way he suddenly longed to do. And that wasn't all. He wanted to pull her to him and . . . He abruptly stopped his thoughts from going there. Amanda clearly wasn't ready for that.

"Amanda," he began, his voice tentative, unsure. "I'm . . ."

"I'm really hungry, too," he heard her say in a rush, taking a small step towards the table. "Shall we?"

"Here, let me." He swiftly came around to pull out her chair then seated himself across from her. As if on cue, a waiter appeared and began to pour the wine. He could feel Amanda watching him as he tasted it and approved the selection. "I hope you don't mind that I went ahead and preordered the food," he told her quickly. "Apparently the Blue Fox caters to parties of two these days, or so Francine told me. I thought we might try it."

"The Blue Fox . . . I don't think I've ever eaten there. Then again, maybe I have," she said with a flash of humor. "It's hard to know lately."

Lee smiled wryly. "Tell me about it."

"So," she returned, her dark eyes twinkling, "what are we having?"

Lee glanced at the waiter, who immediately began to recite the menu. "Smooth Sweet Corn Bisque with Smithfield Ham to start; Baby Spinach Salad with Williamsburg Dressing, Melted Camembert Chicken Breast, Wild Rice with Sherried Currants and Grilled Asparagus for the main course; Bread Pudding with Bourbon Praline Glaze to finish."

"Lee," she laughed, "you've ordered enough food for an army. I'll never be able to eat all that."

"I know, so I only ordered one entrée. I thought we could share."

She tilted her head as a slight flicker of recognition passed over her face, but it vanished just as quickly. "That sounds like a perfect solution," she said, her features evening out again.

"Well, I wanted to make sure you'd be able to enjoy every minute of our special dessert." He nodded again to the waiter, who immediately disappeared. Flashing a conspiratorial grin, Lee leaned his upper body across the table and lowered his voice. "I've always thought it was the best part of the meal. Definitely worth waiting for."

"It is?" she asked, her breath suddenly coming in short gasps.

"Yes. The Blue Fox is famous for their bread pudding."

"Oh . . . the bread pudding." She dropped her eyes into her lap and mumbled, "I think I do remember reading something about that."

"Amanda," he said, his mouth twitching in amusement. "What did you think I meant?"

"I, um . . . nothing."

Her cheeks had reddened into the most becoming blush, and Lee laughed. "Amanda." He stood and extended his hand. "Would you like to dance?"

She looked up, confused. "Dance? But there isn't any . . ." The soft strains of a song began to play in the background. "I should have known," she laughed as she rose and slipped her hand into his.

Lee started to bring her fingers to his lips for a brief kiss, but something in the way she held herself stopped him. Instead he let his eyes rest on the diamond bracelet on her wrist. "This must be one of your favorites," he told her, turning the delicate strand in his fingers. "I've noticed you always wear it."

"Yes. Someone very special gave it to me," she said, her voice unusually quiet.

She didn't seem inclined to elaborate, so he led her to the impromptu dance floor. He heard her sigh tremulously as his arms closed around her. He kept a little space between them at first, but as the first song melted into the second, he felt her slowly relax against him. That funny feeling swept over him again as they continued to dance, their bodies growing closer as each minute passed. It felt so right somehow to be holding her in his arms. He wondered if she felt it, too. She still seemed so guarded around him, as if she refused to let herself give in to what she was feeling. He wished he knew how to make her trust him again. He let out a long breath. That other Lee, the man he had become . . . **he** would have known.

"Are you okay?"

Amanda's voice sounded softly in his ear and he pulled back to look at her. "Yeah," he murmured gently, "I'm fine."

She looked as if she wanted to say something, but instead simply nodded, for which Lee was profoundly grateful. His expression softened as he gazed down into her eyes. "I think the first course is ready," he whispered, his voice suddenly hoarse. "Why don't we sit down and enjoy our dinner?"

Nodding, she returned his look. "I'd like that."

~ ~ SMK ~ ~

"Lee, you were right, that was incredibly delicious." Amanda used the last bit of bread pudding to soak up a few more drops of the Bourbon Praline Glaze. "I wonder if The Blue Fox gives out any of their recipes." She ran her index finger around the inside of the bowl then slowly licked it off, savoring every last bit.

Catching Lee's startled look, she hurriedly apologized. "I'm sorry, but it really is a shame to let any go to waste."

"No, it's not that." Lee kept staring at her with the oddest expression on his face. His voice sounded like he had something caught in his throat. "It's just . . . I . . . I'm glad you enjoyed the meal." He finally broke eye contact with her, seemingly finding something of great interest just over her shoulder.

"I'll have to remember to let you order for me the next time we go out."

"Well, I've been told I have great taste." His voice had a playful undertone now, as if he'd forgotten whatever had been bothering him a minute ago. "And not just in food."

Amanda nearly choked on the last of her wine. "I'm fine, I'm fine," she motioned for him to stay seated as she cleared her throat and tried to breathe normally. "You just took me by surprise, that's all. I hadn't expected you to use one of your lines on me."

"Lines?" he said indignantly.

"Yes, lines. I remember what your 'lady friends' were like back when we first met."

"Amanda," he started, but she cut him off.

"So tell me, Lee, did they ever actually work on anyone?"

He smiled at her. "You tell me. You're the one who accepted my proposal." He stood up and held out his hand. "How about we go for a walk before we head back home?"

She nodded and put her hand in his. Lee helped her up then led her further into the greenhouse.

"I wonder what that was like," Amanda said slowly. "When you proposed."

"Me too," he said. "There are so many things I wish I could remember. Asking you out for the first time, our first date, our first kiss, our first everything." He tightened his fingers around hers.

"What makes you think I said yes the first time you asked?" she asked playfully.

"Are you kidding?" In the dim light she could see the flash of Lee's smile as he looked down at her. "I saw the way you used to look at me. You thought I was irresistible."

"You mean, I thought you were insufferable," Amanda laughed. "Now, there's the Lee Stetson I used to know. Remember that costume party you had me meet you at? You were so . . . smug, standing at the top of the staircase, as if you were God's gift to every woman in the room. I would have loved to have pushed you down the stairs."

"Lucky for me, then, that you weren't in a position to do so."

"The flowers here are incredible." Amanda stooped to inspect a small clump of orchids. In the distance they could hear the splash of the water cascading over an outcropping of rocks. "It must have taken years to collect all of them."

Lee laughed. "Some were easier than you think. If someone tries to bring a banned variety of orchid into the States, it usually ends up here in the Botanic Garden. They've got thousands of kinds as a result."

"I guess some people are just born rule breakers," Amanda said as she straightened up again.

"And some people are born rule followers." Lee took her by the hand again and they continued down the path.

Amanda glanced up at him as they walked along. "Back when I was a Bedside BlueBell, you told me that rule breakers and rule followers don't mix," she said, watching his reaction.

"Apparently that was just another rule I decided to break," he countered with a short laugh.

Amanda sighed. Why was she finding it so hard to accept that Lee wanted to be with her?

She really did want to believe that she was someone special to him. That he didn't just see her as a convenient place to stop in a long line of 'lady friends' just because they'd had a child together.

That first day they'd arrived home from the hospital, Lee had certainly seemed ready to bolt out of the door. It was only after he'd spent some time with Emily that Amanda felt he really wanted to be there. It wasn't surprising, of course, considering his own family experience. She remembered the pain and anger in his voice the first time he'd spoken about his lonely childhood. It was only natural that he'd want to spare Emily from experiencing anything like that.

But was that the only reason he was staying? To keep their family unit intact? If there had been no one else to consider, just the two of them, would they be on this date together tonight? She gave a small sigh as she thought over the obvious answer to her question.

But even Emily hadn't been a strong enough tie keep Lee from staying out all night with whatever former girlfriend he'd run into. Years earlier Joe had left, despite having two children, so why should she expect things to be any different this time?

And yet, in spite of everything, Amanda felt herself drawn to Lee. Was he right, had it been like that from the start and she just hadn't been able to admit it? Or were her current feelings simply vague bits of memories of their past together reasserting themselves? Her attempts to force her brain to remember something, anything, specific had never yielded anything more than a headache. So maybe all these feelings were something new, the result of the time they'd been spending together recently.

She shook her head in frustration. It was like being back in college, faced with those indecipherable multiple choice questions. Was the answer a, b, c, all of the above or none of the above? Why did it have to be so difficult? Why couldn't she simply admit that she wanted him? Maybe there was no right or wrong answer at all; maybe that was the root of the problem.

"Lee, if you don't mind, I think I'd like to go home," she said, suddenly exhausted by all the mental gymnastics.

He looked down at her anxiously. "Sure, no problem. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just a bit tired."

She was grateful that he didn't try to make small talk as they drove through the quiet streets of D.C. and over the bridge into Arlington. The cool of the glass was a soothing touch against her forehead as she leaned against the car window. Lee cleared his throat a few times and seemed to be on the verge of saying something more than once, but held off until they were finally home again.

"Amanda, are you sure you're all right?" he asked as he helped her out of the car.

"I'm fine," she answered, then abruptly changed the subject. "It looks like Mother's still awake." She motioned up at the lighted windows of her mother's apartment. "I guess she's having Emily sleep over at her place. She told me earlier she might."

Lee unlocked the back door and held it open for her. "So, it's just the two of us, no chaperone," he said in a low tone.

Amanda blushed slightly. "I guess." The realization that the two of them were really alone for the first time since they'd lost their memories swept over her in a rush. Sure, they'd spent time together in their office, but this was a very different feeling.

Lee slid his arms around her waist, drawing her to him.

"What are you doing?" she asked nervously.

"Something I've wanted to do all evening." He reached up with one hand and gently swept a few errant strands of hair off her face. Her soft 'oh' of surprise was cut off as he bent his head and brushed his lips over her cheek.

She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the moment. Suddenly it no longer mattered why Lee was there with her. It only mattered that he was there, his arms around her, his lips now eagerly seeking hers. She ran her hands up over his shoulders and slid them around his neck, pulling him to her, deepening the kiss.

Much too soon, Lee drew back and smiled down at her. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" he whispered.

She reached up to brush her fingers against his lips, but suddenly froze in place.

"Amanda, what's wrong?" Lee asked anxiously.

"You've got my lipstick on your face," she answered tonelessly. Suddenly it all crashed down on her again - finding him passed out in their office, seeing the pale pink smudges on his collar that all but screamed out at her that Lee hadn't wanted her, that he wanted someone else.

Backing out of his embrace, she stammered, "I . . . I think we should call it a night." She turned and headed for the stairs.

Lee reached out and caught her by the arm. "Amanda, please, can't we talk about this?"

"Lee, I can't." She pulled away. "I'm sorry, but I just can't. Not right now."

"Then when?"

"Hi, Mom, Lee. When did you get in?"

They were both startled into silence by a voice from the stairs.

"Phillip," Lee recovered first, "what are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "My Friday afternoon classes were cancelled, so I thought I'd come home for the weekend."

Amanda gave her son a quick hug. "And we're always glad to have you. I'm just really tired right now, so I'll see you in the morning." Ignoring the startled look on her son's face, she hurriedly brushed past him and up the stairs, unable to face whatever Lee might have been going to say next.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

~~XV~~

Lee punched the pillow a few times as he turned on his right side, searching for a comfortable position in the narrow twin bed. "Ouch," he muttered as his knee collided with the wall.

Phillip's deep laugh drifted across the room. "Jamie always does that, too."

"Jamie should get a medal for sleeping in this deathtrap. How the hell does he manage it?"

"He's a lot shorter than you are."

"Yeah, I suppose he is." Groaning, Lee rubbed his throbbing knee. The pain was actually a welcome distraction. At least it took his mind off Amanda for a moment. He couldn't seem to shake the image of her face in the pale candlelight, her full lips drawing the last remnants of that Bourbon sauce from her finger. Closing his eyes, he gave his imagination free reign as he wondered what other magic those wonderful lips could conjure up as they roamed . . .

"Hey, Lee."

"What," he croaked, his voice sounding unusually gritty.

"Sorry," the boy apologized quickly, "I didn't mean to startle you. You weren't falling asleep already or anything, were you?"

"No such luck," he moaned, banishing the erotic images from his mind once and for all. In his present state, thoughts like that could be dangerous . . . if not downright painful, he thought, trying to ignore his body's unwelcomingly persistent reaction. Good God, what was the matter with him? He suddenly felt as if he was no older than Phillip, awash in a sea of hormones. He shook his head ruefully. Actually, at Phillip's age he was probably less frustrated than he was at the moment.

"Anyway, I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

His stepson's voice was a welcome distraction. Yes, it was probably a good thing for his sanity that Emily and Phillip had turned up at home after all. If he was alone with Amanda he might be tempted to . . . "Sorry for what?" he asked abruptly as Phillip's remark finally sank in.

"For, um, showing up here unexpectedly," Phillip replied with more than a hint of embarrassment in his voice.

"You don't have to apologize. This is your home. You know you're welcome here anytime." Probably more welcome than I am, he finished gloomily.

"Yeah, but I shouldn't have barged in on you like that. I just heard voices downstairs and . . . well, I guess I didn't think." He hesitated for a brief moment then added, "Mom seemed kind of upset."

"It wasn't from anything you did," he assured Phillip quickly. "Don't worry about it."

As his stepson fell silent, Lee found himself staring up at the ceiling. Every so often a car passed by on the street, its headlights sending a beam of patterned light across the walls. He followed it almost hypnotically as he tried without success to put the thoughts of Amanda from his head. The way she had felt in his arms, the taste of her lips, the sweet intoxication of her breath mingling with his as they'd kissed. For a brief moment downstairs in their kitchen, he'd sensed something different about her. She'd put aside her fears. If Phillip hadn't appeared when he did . . . No, he reminded himself sharply, Phillip didn't have anything to do with it. She'd already pulled away, started to erect that wall between them again . . . He shifted uncomfortably again. Maybe 'erect' wasn't the best choice of words at the moment.

"Lee."

Phillip sounded concerned, as if he might have been calling his name for some time. "I'm sorry," he murmured remorsefully, giving the boy his full attention. "Did you say something?"

"I just wondered if you were, uh, okay."

"I'm just fine." Leaning up on his elbow, he squinted into the darkness. Though the room was light enough to see, Phillip's face was hidden in the shadows, his expression unreadable. "How about you?" he inquired, trolling for information. "You never really said why you decided to come home. I know your classes were cancelled, but . . ."

"It's nothing, really. I have a paper due next week and things were a little hectic at my apartment, that's all."

Lee smiled. "Getting a head start on a paper, huh? I'm impressed."

"Yeah, well, I thought I'd try to get through econ with more than just a 'C' this semester, that's all."

"That's a laudable goal," Lee said with a laugh. "Not one I think I ever followed when I was in school. So, how's that girlfriend of yours? What's her name again . . ."

"Renee." Phillip sighed. "She's okay."

"That's good. I thought maybe you guys might have had a fight or something."

"Why do you say that?" Phillip asked after a moment. "She didn't, uh, call Mom or anything, did she?"

"Not that I know of. Then again, maybe you should ask your mother. I'm not sure that's something she'd discuss with me."

He heard Phillip's fingers drum nervously on the headboard, as if he was trying to work something out in his head. "You and Mom . . . you guys are doing better, right? I mean, Grandma said things seemed almost normal," he added without taking a breath. "Well, at least as normal as they get around here."

"We're working on it." The sudden plaintive note in Phillip's voice reminded him of Emily. Lee shook his head; he supposed it didn't really matter how grown up a person looked on the outside – it was still important to have your family together.

"Hey, Lee . . ." Phillip's voice sounded tentative as he added in a loud whisper, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, ask away, Chief," he said without thinking, stifling a sudden yawn as he settled back down on the bed. The events of the day were finally beginning to catch up with him.

"How do you know when . . . well, when something's right?" Phillip asked, a funny catch in his voice. "In a relationship, I mean."

Lee's eyes popped open. "Are we talking generalities or specifics here?" he asked, suddenly wide awake.

"I don't know." Phillip heaved a loud sigh then continued, "It's not that important, really. Renee and I are having some problems, and I guess I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, especially since you and Mom . . . well, I just wondered. How do you know when to stay and try to work things out and when to just walk away?"

"You don't ask the easy ones, do you?"

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," Phillip put in quickly. "I didn't mean to put you on the spot or anything."

"No, it's okay." He glanced in the boy's direction. He was lying rigidly in the small bed on the other side of the room, the covers kicked to one side. Lee wrestled with how much to tell him. His stepson was obviously bothered about something – whether it was trouble with his girlfriend or something a little bit closer to home, he wasn't quite sure. Either way, he deserved an honest answer.

"I'll admit it's tempting to just give up and walk away," Lee began slowly. "Easier, too, all the way around. But sometimes the easy way isn't always the best way, you know?"

"I guess. It's just that, well, sometimes people think leaving really is the best thing. That's what Dad thought, anyway."

Lee let out a sigh. Phillip had a valid point. Joe King had left. Left his sons, left Amanda . . . could that be part of what was bothering her?

"I guess it depends on how much you want to make things work," Lee said, struggling to find his voice. "If Renee is someone you care about, then she must be worth fighting for. If you give up every time you hit a little bump in the road, then no one would ever stay together."

"Yeah, maybe, but still . . ."

"Relationships don't come with a money back guarantee, Phillip. It takes work if you're going to build something worth holding onto," he said, suddenly realizing how little he'd heeded his own advice in the past. It had always been simpler and less complicated to leave when the going got tough. Like Joe King. "I guess it takes someone pretty special to make you see that, though," he added, almost to himself.

Phillip laughed. "Maybe that's my problem. You and Mom set the bar so damn high, I don't want to settle for anything less."

Lee fell back against the pillow and studied the shadows on the ceiling. "We did, huh? I guess we must have been pretty good together."

"The best," Phillip answered without hesitation.

"It's funny," he thought out loud. "I never really pictured myself with a family. I always saw myself as the original lone wolf." Lee exhaled loudly. "I wish I could remember more about my life . . . our life . . . Emily, you guys . . . What it was like to be part of a family again."

He heard Phillip's back thud against the wall as he sat up. "It was good. I mean, having another guy around and all. But at the same time, it was kind of hard, too, at first. Because of all the secrets."

"Secrets?"

"You know . . . what you guys really did for a living, that you and mom had eloped, that she was pregnant . . . I think that last part was tougher for Jamie than for me. I mean, he'd always been the baby and then suddenly. . ."

Lee bolted up and switched the light on low. "Wait a minute. You didn't know we got married?"

Phillip shook his head. "Not at first."

There was a raw quality to his stepson's voice, and Lee had the feeling he'd stumbled across a wound that hadn't quite healed. "That must have been pretty hard to take." As the boy shrugged, Lee asked, "Why did we have . . ."

"A 'mystery marriage?' That's what you guys called it," Phillip responded as Lee's frown deepened. "You were worried that your jobs might put us in danger, so you thought it was better to keep it a secret."

He nodded absently. That sounded plausible. Life at the Agency wasn't exactly synonymous with family. After all, one of them might go out the door one night and not come back. The same way his parents had. But they must have worked all that out . . . what had happened to change things?

"As it turned out, you couldn't really keep it a secret for long. Mom was pregnant."

Lee ran a hand through his hair as he realized he must have spoken his question aloud. The black hole in his memory suddenly felt more oppressive than ever. There were too many things he wanted, needed, to know. "I'm sorry, Phillip."

The boy shrugged. "You don't have to apologize. All that stuff's been over and done with for a long time. I shouldn't even have brought it up."

"No, I'm glad you did. I get so tired of everybody walking on eggshells around me, not sure what to say. Your mom does, too. I can see the same frustration in her eyes."

Phillip nodded. "You guys always did have that special kind of radar. It's why, even with all the lies - I mean, secrets," he amended with a quick smile, "everything turned out okay. Mom was so happy, you both were, I guess it was kind of contagious. Even Jamie eventually stopped being a doofus."

"Don't call your brother a doofus," he responded automatically.

Phillip laughed. "You know, Lee, I think maybe you remember more than you think you do."

"Some things are instinctual," he said as he rubbed his forehead. Thinking about all this was giving him a headache. There was just too much information to process. They'd kept their marriage a secret, even from Amanda's family. How could he have asked her to do that? She must have cared about him pretty deeply to have agreed to that kind of deception. Loved him . . . Why the hell couldn't he remember something like that?

"Don't worry, Lee," he heard Phillip reassure him in a voice that sounded amazingly like Amanda's. "About Mom, I mean. I have a feeling things will be okay. Besides," he added with a laugh, "Jamie and I have no intention of losing you now. It's taken us too many years to break you in. We've finally gotten you just where we want you."

"I'm relieved to hear it," he replied with a rough laugh. He knew what Phillip was trying to do and he was oddly touched by it.

"There is one thing I've been meaning to ask you, though," Phillip continued, his grin widening. "Grandma told me about how she caught you interrogating Barbie the other day. I was just wondering – was she easy to break or did she put up a fight?"

Lee groaned. "Your grandmother promised me not to say anything about that."

"Yeah, well, Grandma's no Barbie, that's for sure," Phillip teased. "A few well placed compliments, and she was spilling her guts."

"Hey, those dolls have been all over the news. I just wanted to make sure Emily hadn't ended up with one that said, 'Math class is hard,' that's all. The poor kid doesn't need to be stereotyped at five, just because she's a girl."

Phillip gave him a knowing smile. "Yeah, I can see it all now - a whole generation of American women growing up unable to balance their checkbooks. Are you sure it's not a Russian plot or something?"

Lee quickly tossed a pillow at his stepson's head, the tension broken. "Goodnight, Phillip," he said as he switched off the light. He could hear the boy's muffled laughter in the darkness, so like Amanda's.

The quick image of her enjoying that special dessert popped into his mind again. He let out short sigh as he turned his face towards the wall. It was going to be a long night.

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

~~XVI~~

Amanda leaned back in her chair while she waited for the latest security review to finish processing. At least helping Francine with the arrangements for the upcoming reception at the Kennedy Center was moderately distracting, as was the faster pace of the bullpen. Truth be told, she was more at home down here. Up in the Q-Section, she couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling that she was only masquerading as an agent.

The same way she was masquerading as a wife. Though she no longer jumped when people called her 'Mrs. Stetson,' it still seemed as if that name should belong to someone else. At least Phillip's unexpected weekend visit had alleviated some of the tension at home. It was easier to deal with Lee when there was a buffer between them.

Although, after Phillip headed back to school, Lee had made no effort to resume their aborted discussion in the kitchen. Maybe he already regretted what had happened in afterglow of their date. Amanda sighed; it **had** been a wonderful evening. And Lee had wanted her that night - she could feel it in the heat of his kiss. But as much as she would have liked to respond, she just couldn't let herself, not when things were still so . . . unsettled . . . between them. Married or not, she wouldn't be just another notch on the legendary Scarecrow's bedpost.

"Amanda."

"Lee." She jumped up, her cheeks flushing as if he could read her thoughts. "What are you doing down here?"

"Looking for Billy. You haven't seen him, have you?"

"Billy's still in a meeting over at State, but he should be back in an hour or so," Francine answered for her. "I thought I told you that when you called the bullpen earlier looking for him."

"Uh, yeah. I guess you did." Lee ran a hand through his hair and looked at Amanda. "Well, as long as I made the trip down here, do you want to grab some lunch?"

She pursed her lips. "I'm helping Francine with these security arrangements," she began in a halting voice.

"Yes, she is," Francine broke in as Lee's face clouded over. "And as we're about to head over to the Kennedy to follow up on the installation of those new security cameras, I thought we might as well have lunch on the Agency." She smiled sweetly. "I've got a wide open budget on this one."

Lee rolled his eyes. "Far be it from me to try to compete with an expense account. I guess I'll just leave a note for Billy before I go follow up with Langley on the latest lead on Finch."

"The CIA has something?" Amanda asked.

"Ken Thompson over at the Alexandria Station has a line on an informant. It'll probably turn out to be another dead end, but someone should at least go over there and retrieve the information."

"I'll do it," Amanda said a little too quickly. "Since I'm going to be out of the office anyway."

Uncertainty crept into his expression. "You're sure?"

"Yes, Lee," she replied, her tone suddenly prickly. "I think I can handle a simple courier assignment."

"I wasn't implying that you couldn't," he stated, his former hesitation now annoyance.

Francine took a quick step forward. "Okay then," she interposed with cool efficiency, "That's settled. We can go to the Kennedy and then Amanda can head over to the Alexandria station. Amanda, why don't you drive, and I can take a cab back to the Agency when I'm finished? I'm sure Lee won't mind if we take his BMW," she added with just the right touch of arch sweetness in her tone.

"Be my guest," he returned, his sarcasm unmistakable. "If I need a car, I'll just use the Jeep. See you later."

Amanda started to say something, but Francine shook her head. "Let him go," she advised. "He'll be fine once he cools off a bit. You certainly have a knack for getting under his skin, don't you? Come on," she continued, heading for the door, "we need to get going, especially if you want to make it to Alexandria and back before the traffic gets too heavy."

Ashamed of her behavior, Amanda could only nod. What on earth was the matter with her? She'd been doing that ever since their 'date,' starting these pointless little arguments with Lee. It was almost as if she was challenging him to walk out the door.

"Thanks for running interference," Amanda murmured as they caught the elevator. "I just needed to . . . I mean, I just couldn't . . ."

"Yes," Francine said, her blue eyes rounding, "I noticed."

Amanda let out a slow breath. "We don't have to really go to lunch, Francine. I know how swamped you are with all the last minute security screenings."

"Swamped doesn't begin to describe it," Francine complained loudly, "but we most definitely are going to lunch. The Roof Terrace restaurant serves the most exquisite pastries in town, and I'm in desperate need of a fix. Trust me, chocolate withdrawal is not a pretty sight."

Amanda laughed. "Well, since you put it that way, how can I say no?"

They made the short drive to the Kennedy Center in relative silence, but Amanda had the feeling that her reprieve would be short-lived at best. She was right. As soon as they were seated at a table by the window, Francine began her less than subtle interrogation.

"So, how are things on the home front?" she inquired pleasantly. "Lee and Emily getting along okay?"

"More than okay," Amanda replied with a wistful sigh. "It didn't take much more than one look from Emily for Lee to fall under her spell."

"That doesn't surprise me at all. Lee Stetson is the most doting father I've ever seen."

"Yes, he is. And not just with Emily. He has a great rapport with the boys, too," Amanda said, remembering Phillip's comment from the previous weekend. Her son had clearly been bothered by something, but when she'd attempted to draw him out, he'd put her off, saying only that he and Lee had already talked. Whatever Lee had said, it had seemed to do the trick. "Oh, I don't know," she groaned, shaking her head as she studied the menu. "This is all so impossible."

"You should really try the risotto," Francine advised. "It's supposed to be world class."

Amanda was about to explain that she hadn't been talking about the cuisine when she heard a tinkling laugh from somewhere over her left shoulder. "I couldn't agree more," a voice intoned in a sultry drawl. "Although I must confess a fondness for the oyster bisque."

Amanda looked up into the blue eyes of a flawless blonde. Her stealthy approach had caught Francine off-guard as well and, from the expression on her coworker's face, Amanda wondered fleetingly if the woman could be an enemy agent. But she immediately rejected the idea as absurd; this sultry beauty was far too . . . groomed . . . for that. In fact, the woman looked as if she'd just spent a week at Elizabeth Arden. She was picture perfect, from her immaculately styled hair to the tips of her polished leather pumps. And her powder blue linen suit had that ineffable look of a designer original.

"Amanda, dear," the blonde purred, "now this is a wonderful surprise. It's simply been ages. How have you been?"

Amanda was suddenly conscious of the wrinkles in her own skirt after a morning of sitting at a computer console and that her hair was more likely than not looking a bit, well, frazzled, as Jamie had once so tactfully told her.

"I'm fine," she said, trying frantically to attach a name to the face. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but for the life of her, she couldn't place her.

"What a coincidence," the woman continued in silky tones. "I run into you today and just the other week I bumped into Lee at L'Ornate. I hope you don't mind that we had dinner together, he seemed to be at a bit of loss that night."

Francine smoothly came to the rescue. "So, Elisa, what brings you to the Kennedy? Taking in a matinee this afternoon?"

Elisa ran a gloved hand over her sleek hair, as if a strand would actually have had the temerity to fall out of place. "No, I'm meeting a few friends here for lunch. One of them is planning her silver anniversary party, and she wanted some help picking out a menu. Isn't it amazing," she continued with just a touch of insolence in her voice, "how some people manage to stay married for so long."

Amanda could almost feel the other woman's gaze sweep over the empty fingers of her left hand and quickly drew her hand back under her napkin. She now knew how a mouse must feel under the watchful eye of a cat preparing to pounce.

Taking in her discomfort, the corners of Elisa's lips twitched in amusement. "I've always thought that things would tend to stagnate after a few years. Variety is the spice of life, after all. Or at least that's what Lee used to tell me."

Amanda flushed at the unspoken accusation, but she met Elisa's gaze straight on. "I guess some people just have the knack for staying together," she stated coolly.

Elisa smiled. "Or perhaps they just don't realize when it's time to leave the party. Oh, there's Meghan, I've got to run. It was . . . lovely . . . seeing you again, Amanda." After one last supercilious smile, she turned and headed back across the room.

"I'm sorry, Amanda. I had no idea," Francine said hurriedly. "I never would have brought you here if I had known . . ."

"It's not your fault, Francine."

Francine let out a long breath. "Elisa Danton always did have a thing for Lee. Back in the days when he used to be a mainstay on the social duty roster, the two of them were a bit of an item. I always thought she'd had hopes of being the one to finally get him to settle down."

Amanda felt her curiosity get the better of her. "What happened?"

"Nothing, really. I don't think Lee ever realized how seriously Elisa took their relationship. After his partner, Eric, was killed, he didn't seem to take much of anything seriously." Francine narrowed her gaze. "Until you came along, that is."

Amanda twirled a small shrimp fork between her fingers. "It's funny, I had no idea what I was getting into when Lee recruited me. How much my life would change . . . both of our lives, really."

"You can say that again. Like I said, Lee just seemed to lose interest in signing up for the society events . . . it must have been, what, around two years after he started working with you. Still, not too many of us thought he'd really changed for good. I know I didn't." She chuckled softly to herself. "You don't remember, but I actually tried to talk the two of you out of dating."

"You did?"

Francine smiled. "Shocking, I know. But I swear, Amanda, I had your best interests at heart. I was so sure Lee was just going to use you for a while then dump you when he got bored."

"Thanks a lot," she said with a disgruntled sigh. Although, why the observation should bother her, she had no idea; after all, Francine was only voicing what Amanda herself had been thinking.

"Don't worry," Francine assured her with a friendly smile. "You definitely had the last laugh. Since it turned out that the two of you were engaged at the time, I was making a pretty big fool of myself."

She crooked her head. "We didn't tell people we were engaged?"

"You didn't tell people when you started dating, either." Francine smiled over at her. "For some reason, the two of you seemed to feel that you might be the focus of gossip at the office. Why, I can't imagine."

Amanda sighed. "Elisa obviously still feels that way . . . that Lee and I don't belong together."

"She can be rather tenacious at times." Francine's mouth tightened. "Usually what Elisa wants, Elisa gets."

"And apparently she still wants Lee."

Francine thoughtfully sipped her water as she glanced in Elisa's direction. "On paper they make a great couple. But what Elisa's never realized is that you and Lee fit together in a way the two of them never did."

Amanda gave a short laugh as she, too, considered the elegant Elisa Danton, darling of the society columns. "Somehow I find that hard to believe."

"It was always obvious to anyone who cared to look below the surface. Not that I bothered to do that much in those days," Francine added with a soft smile. "Even before you and Lee got involved romantically, you could see it in the way the two of you worked so well together.

"Last I remember Lee was less than thrilled about having to work with me at all," Amanda protested.

"At first, maybe. It was actually pretty amusing watching him try to find ways to get out of partnering with you. Until one day it suddenly hit me that he'd started doing the opposite – he was actually suggesting reasons to have to call you in. You two developed into one of the best teams I've ever seen, Amanda."

"But that team doesn't really exist anymore," she lamented. "I've forgotten all my training. You saw how he reacted when I suggested I pick up the CIA file . . ."

Francine waved a hand dismissively. "His nose was temporarily out of joint, that's all. But he knows as well as I do that you were a better agent than half the people in the bullpen before you had any formal training at all. Much as I didn't want to admit it at first, you had great instincts. And amnesia or not, you still do."

She let out a long sigh. "So what do I do now?"

"Stop running away, for one thing." Francine leaned forward, her face taking on a singularly earnest expression. "You know, Amanda, I don't think it's a matter of whether or not you trust Lee. You have to decide if you trust yourself or not."

Amanda shook her head. "If only it was that easy."

"But it is." Francine's expression challenged her from across the table. "What about your daughter? When you went home from the hospital, did you sit around analyzing your feelings about Emily, wondering if she should be part of your life?"

"Of course not. I was in total shock when I first found out that I had a daughter. But the whole ride home, I couldn't stop thinking about what she might be like. And the first time I saw her . . . I just knew she was part of me."

"It's not so different with Lee, you know," Francine prodded gently.

"Isn't it?" Amanda stared out at the sparkles of sunlight on the Potomac. "I just don't know what to think anymore."

"Maybe that's your problem - too much thinking and not enough feeling. You have to stop beating yourself up about him. Just relax and let things happen. Follow those instincts of yours, Amanda. They haven't let you down yet. Now," Francine said as her lips curved into a satisfied smile, "shall we just dispense with the main course and get right to that pastry cart?"

~ ~ ~SMK ~ ~

Lee tucked the phone under his chin as he sorted the mass of files on his desk into one neat pile. "Yes, yes . . . I totally agree." He glanced over at Billy Melrose, who was reading a report at Amanda's desk. "No, I don't think it should be a problem. Just give the information to my partner. She's on her way to your office right now . . . No, we're the ones who appreciate it, Ken. Thanks . . . thanks a lot." Lee replaced the phone on its cradle and leaned back in his chair.

Billy looked up. "So what exactly does the CIA have for us?"

Lee drummed his fingers on the desk. "One of their information brokers supposedly has a line on the gas Finch used."

"That's good news," Billy beamed. "If we could get our hands on the actual formulation, McJohn might be able to do more than kill mice."

Lee nodded. "What's the status on Finch's trial?"

"Jury selection is scheduled to begin on the 15th of February. As soon as the defense sees that your names have been taken off the witness list, they'll move to have the charges dropped. It's likely their petition will be granted."

"So Finch still thinks we're a threat," Lee murmured thoughtfully.

"Undoubtedly. What's the deal on this CIA informant?"

"According to Ken Thompson over at Alexandria, the man is willing to trade the information in return for a few concessions."

"You believe him?" Billy inquired between sips of coffee.

"I have no reason not to. Ken's always been a pretty straight shooter."

Billy nodded his agreement. "So what does the informant want?"

"Evidently his girlfriend was picked up in a routine debugging sweep last month. She'd planted a listening device in one of the CIA offices. He wants her released and the charges dropped."

"Did she get anything important?"

Lee shook his head. "Nothing much. An agent's shopping list and the location of a defunct listening post. Strictly penny-ante stuff. Amanda is picking up the file this afternoon."

Billy nodded as he leaned back in Amanda's chair. "Shutting down Finch's network is top priority for every intelligence bureau in this town. I think we can make the trade-off. What's the setup?"

"It's pretty straightforward. The meet is scheduled for ten a.m. Saturday morning at a warehouse on Benning. I go in with the girl and come out with a sample of the gas."

"You go in?" Billy's brows drew together as he frowned. "You're not thinking of handling this yourself, are you?"

"This maneuver's as simple as they come, Billy. A rookie could execute it blindfolded."

Billy folded his arms across his chest as he shot Lee a look. "Then let a rookie execute it. Or one of the Q agents."

Lee shrugged as he tried to look nonchalant. "Ken specified that Amanda and I make the exchange."

Billy pushed out of the chair and began to pace. "Alone? In an empty warehouse?"

"Yeah," Lee groaned, "I know."

Billy blew out a long breath. "CIA or no CIA, this smells like a setup."

"Maybe not. It could be just what it looks like. A simple quid pro quo."

"Do you honestly expect me to buy that line? My God, man," Billy exclaimed, "this is exactly like the scenario they used to draw you out in the first place! It's too risky."

"And what about the risk if we don't go?" Lee rose from his chair and leaned forward on the desk, bringing his eyes level with his boss. "This isn't just about nailing Finch, Billy, it's my life we're gambling with – mine and Amanda's. If there's even the smallest chance this could be on the up and up, I'm going to take the risk."

Billy pursed his lips. "And what about Amanda? Does she have anything to say about this?"

Lee smiled grimly. "I'm sure she'll have quite a bit to say about it. Especially when she finds out that Francine will be wearing a wig and taking her place."

Billy whistled softly. "I wouldn't want to be your shoes."

"The Agency regs clearly state that it's a strategic error to risk both members of an agent team in an unknown situation."

Billy snorted. "It's comforting to know that you'll resort to procedure when it's convenient, Scarecrow."

Lee gave a short laugh. "Yeah, well, I always knew that tactical manual might come in handy someday." He took a deep breath and lowered his voice. "I want her out of the line of fire, Billy. If something goes wrong . . . well, it's not just our lives anymore. We have a daughter to think of."

Billy nodded. "Amanda may not like it, but she'll understand it. You'll wear a wire?"

"Yes. We can have teams covering the outside of the building. Amanda can stay with the surveillance van and call in the strike if anything goes wrong."

"I'll make it an order."

"Thanks. It might make things a little easier."

"Well, I need the two of you back to full speed, the sooner the better," Billy stated with an offhand shrug. "How are things between you, if you don't mind my asking?"

Lee frowned. "Better, I guess, but certainly not the way I want them to be."

"And what about Amanda? What does she want?"

"I don't know." Lee pushed his hands deep into his pockets as he circled the room. They had seemed so close to . . . something . . . the other night in the kitchen, then she had pulled away again. "Sometimes I think that gas took more from her than it did from me," he murmured glumly.

A shadow of a frown swept across Billy's face. "Remember what McJohn said – you two may have been hit with the same dose of gas, but Amanda weighs a lot less than you do. It's entirely possible that it **has** affected her in a different way."

"Maybe, I don't know. It's as if she isn't sure of anything anymore." And his seeming inability to trust her to make a simple run to the Alexandria station certainly wasn't helping matters. No wonder Amanda had seemed more comfortable helping Francine. "What's the bottom line if we don't get our memory back? At work, I mean. Come on, Billy," he added as he saw his boss hesitate. "This is the Agency we're talking about. There's always a bottom line."

"Dr. Smyth and I have had a few conversations."

"And?"

"With or without your memory intact, you're a fully trained, experienced agent, Scarecrow. That makes you still a viable head of this department."

He eyed his boss warily. "What about Amanda?"

Billy refused to meet his gaze. "That's under debate at the moment. She might, uh, have to go through training again."

"Training? Are we talking about a few refresher courses here, or . . ."

"We're talking about total re-qualification, starting with Station One."

"You've got to be kidding!" Lee's brows shot up along with his voice. "That's downright insulting, Billy, and you know it!"

"Of course I know it," Billy returned sharply. "But it's Agency procedure, and Dr. Smyth is well within his rights to enforce it. You should be thankful he's agreed to let her stay at all. In her present condition, she's really no more use than one of our ordinary civilians."

"Damn it, that's so unfair," Lee cried again, slamming his fist impotently against his palm. "Amanda never was ordinary, even when she **was** a civilian."

"Yes. I realized that right from the start. It's good to know that you've come to see things that way, too." Billy's lips twitched. "Makes me think there might really be some hope for you after all, Scarecrow."

"Yeah, well, I don't want to lose my partner, that's all. I've read the files," Lee added in a rush. "It's obvious we made a good team."

"Yes," Billy rejoined dryly, "you did. Don't worry, I've managed to hold Dr. Smyth at bay so far. I think I'm good for a few more rounds. And maybe you're right, maybe this meet on Saturday will finally be the break we need." He placed his coffee cup by the carafe then turned to leave. "Have Amanda bring me that file when she gets back," he tossed over his shoulder. "I want to look at it before this goes any further."

"Billy . . ."

"No arguments, Scarecrow," he said in a tone that brooked no refusal. "It may be your life we're talking about, but this is still my call. I'll discuss what's in that file with you tomorrow morning, but not before, and that's my final word on the subject."

Lee waited until his boss closed the door before sinking down in his chair. Billy picked a great time to become such a stickler for protocol, he grumbled to himself as he swiveled his chair towards the window. There was more than just a simple working partnership on the line here. Procedure, Billy had said. No better than a civilian. What a bunch of bull . . . why, even when she'd had no formal training, Amanda had been quick thinking and inventive. Surely Dr. Smyth must see that.

Of course, **he** hadn't seen it, had he? He remembered his reaction when Amanda had insisted on accompanying him to his meeting with Augie Swan. Only a few short weeks ago, he would have agreed wholeheartedly with Dr. Smyth's rigid assessment.

What had changed? Had working side by side with Amanda altered his opinion or was it something more? Could he actually be falling in love with his own wife?

He opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a small manila envelope, turning it over in his hands. He'd found it by accident just the other day. Two first class airline tickets and a confirmation number for a suite at the Plaza Hotel in New York for February 12th and 13th. Their anniversary weekend, he'd realized with a pang. At least, that's what it said on the marriage license he'd found recorded with the clerk over in Marion county. February 13, 1987. Phillip had obviously been telling the truth about the 'mystery marriage.' They had gone all the way across the state to elope.

Lee sighed as he replaced the envelope carefully in the drawer. He suddenly realized it was one date he wanted to keep.

But what about Amanda? Was it possible that she could feel the same way? It was so hard to read her. He only knew that, for some inexplicable reason, the more she tried to keep him at arm's length, the more he needed for her to believe in their life together. Not in a past neither one of them could remember, but in what was happening between them right now.

Sighing, Lee leaned his elbows on the desk and rubbed his eyes. He was so tired . . . tired of sleeping alone in Jamie's old bed. Tired of threading his way through a minefield of emotions that threatened to blow sky high any minute. Tired of thinking about the way things might have been.

He felt the office walls start to close in around him. If Billy wanted to go over that damn file, then he was welcome to it. He needed to get out of here, needed to find something in his life that made sense. He suddenly remembered Amanda mentioning that Emily's preschool was letting out early today. Maybe he'd head on home and spend some quality time with his daughter. It sure beat thinking about things he was powerless to change. And maybe, if Amanda came back soon enough, she might even join them for an early dinner.

Scribbling off a quick note, he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door.

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

~~XVII~~

Amanda crept slowly down the hall. From the room at the far end of the corridor, a mutter of indistinct voices could be heard. They were still there, then.

Taking a deep breath, she tried vainly to settle her nerves. She'd been afraid that they might have heard her earlier entrance and been scared off, but apparently she was in luck. Of course, since she knew that one person in that room was a trained operative, she'd need quite a bit more luck to pull this off successfully.

Trust your instincts, Francine had said. Well, that's what she was doing. The fact that she knew Lee wouldn't approve of this at all shouldn't matter in the least.

Nervously she tightened her grip on her camera and took several cautious steps forward. Looking down, she checked there was a full roll of film, as if it somehow might have leapt out of the camera in the thirty seconds since her last inspection.

The lighting in the hall suddenly seemed dimmer than before and she pressed the button to activate the flash. She held her breath, hoping the small click hadn't alerted her quarry to her presence. Again, luck seemed to be with her as there was no change in the tone or level of the voices. They seemed totally wrapped up in their conversation, unaware that she was now only three feet from the door.

"So, Mrs. Tiggywinkle, would you like another cup of tea?"

"I'd be delighted, Lady Emily. And might I have another of your wonderful gingersnaps?"

Amanda fought to suppress a snicker as she pushed the door wide open and stepped into the room. "Hi, guys!" she said loudly. "What are you up to?" Pressing down on the shutter of her camera, she began to take a series of pictures.

"We're having a tea party, Mommy," Emily exclaimed happily, holding up her rosebud spray teapot with a flourish.

"I can see that." Amanda couldn't hold back her grin. "And you got all dressed up."

Lee twisted around as well as he could, given that he'd crammed his long frame into one of the tiny chairs from Emily's playset. The Queen Mum herself would have envied the oversized floral hat perching jauntily on his head. But the pink feather boa draped around his neck was the real crowning touch of his ensemble.

"What are you doing?" he asked nervously, eyeing the camera as she got off a few more shots.

"Just taking a few photos for the family album," Amanda said carelessly. "Oh and Francine and I had a long chat at lunch. She's a bit worried about how things are at home, so I thought I might show her a sample of just how well you've settled in."

Lee blanched. "You wouldn't."

"I wouldn't?" Amanda said wickedly. "I think I'll go ask Mother where the nearest one hour photo shop is." She backed out the door.

"Oh, no you don't!" Lee exclaimed, launching himself at her. His legs tangled with the chair as he tried to get up from the tiny piece of furniture. Amanda could hear a muffled oath as he fell to the floor.

She took advantage of the situation and darted down the hallway. By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, Lee's footsteps were thundering in pursuit.

She ran into the kitchen and crouched behind the island. Peering around one end, she watched as he paused at on the landing overlooking the den and kitchen.

"You might as well give up now, Amanda," he called out. "If you surrender without a struggle, I promise to be lenient."

She made a monumental effort and managed to keep from laughing and giving away her hiding spot. Lee had lost the floral hat somewhere in his pursuit of her, but it was hard to take threats seriously from someone still sporting a fluffy pink boa. She ducked back again as he swept his gaze over the breakfast nook.

"Come on, Amanda, you don't really think you can hide from me, do you?" His voice was low and even as he walked down the three steps into the kitchen. "Don't forget, I'm the one who still remembers all his training."

Silently she crawled over the floor to the other end of the counter. Lee had his back turned to her and was heading into the dining room. Funny she'd never realized it before, but the man certainly did justice to a pair of jeans.

She watched him disappear into the dining room then heard the distinct sound of the front door opening a few seconds later. Warily she got up and crossed over to the fridge. He must have bought her threat about going to her mother's apartment. She took a step into the dining room, but was still too far away to see out through the sheer curtains.

"Ah ha! Now I've got you!"

She shrieked as a pair of arms grabbed her from behind. Her struggles were of no use; he had size and strength on his side, as well as the element of surprise.

Lee wrestled her back into the kitchen, swiftly pinning her against the side of the refrigerator. "All right, Amanda, hand it over!"

"What if I promise not to show anyone else the pictures?" She wriggled one hand free and held the camera over her head, vainly trying to keep it away from him.

"I'm not so sure I can trust you," he answered. He held her in place with one arm as he reached up, wrestled the camera out of her grasp and set it on top of the fridge.

"It's a terrible thing to live without trust, Lee," Amanda chided, trying to move out of his tight grip.

"Uh-uh. Not so fast. This sort of behavior calls for a retaliatory strike, you know." He put a hand on either side of her head and leaned in. "I only promised to be lenient if you gave yourself up."

He was so close their lips were almost brushing against each other. She was intensely aware of the length of his body, pressing firmly against hers. As she drew in a quick breath, the masculine scent of his aftershave, sharp and spicy, filled her nostrils. The pounding of her heart against her ribcage suddenly seemed unnaturally loud. She shouldn't be this winded just from running down the stairs, should she?

"Retaliation?" she asked breathily.

"Well, I have to extract some sort of penalty," Lee whispered. "Got to keep up my image, you know." He leaned in, closing the infinitesimal gap between them. Ever so gently, he touched his lips to hers.

"Lee," Amanda murmured, leaning against him.

He abruptly drew away as if he suddenly realized what he'd done. "Amanda, I'm sorry," he gasped, backing away. "I didn't mean to . . ."

"Lee, no, it's all right." She reached out and caught the ends of the boa in her hands, pulling him back towards her. A wave of shyness swept over her, and she suddenly found it hard to look him in the eye. "I . . . want . . . I didn't mind . . ." she whispered, slipping her hands around his neck. She leaned in and kissed him without any hesitation, hoping he'd understand what she found so hard to put into words.

From the expression on his face as they broke apart, apparently she had been successful. "Amanda." Lee leaned his forehead against hers and gently kissed the tip of her nose.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "About the other night . . . and everything else . . . I just wasn't ready to, well, you know . . ."

"I do know. And it's okay; I understand." He ran his hands down her back and settled them around her waist, pulling her even closer. "I didn't mean to rush you. I don't want you to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable."

"Dad-dy!" They both looked down at the sound of an indignant voice. Emily stood there, her hands on her hips. "You knocked over my tea set!"

"I'm sorry," he said, kneeling down to be on her level. "How about you go set it up again, and I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Okay." She gave him a quick hug and scampered back up the stairs.

"Now, where were we?" he asked, wrapping his arms around Amanda again.

"I was telling you that it's a terrible thing to live without trust. I just . . . it was just so hard to believe that you weren't going to leave at any minute."

He tightened his hold on her and looked at her intently. "Amanda, I would never do that," he said.

"I know, I know," she reached up and stroked his cheek. "A part of me knew it all the time, but I was just so scared of letting myself believe."

He turned his head slightly and brushed a tender kiss against her palm. "I'd love to stay, but I'm afraid I've got another woman waiting for me upstairs," he said regretfully. However, he didn't seem to be in a great hurry to leave her.

"Speaking of other women," Amanda said, "Elisa Danton dropped by Francine's and my table at lunch this afternoon." She absently ran her fingers over the Georgetown Athletic Club logo on the front of his sweatshirt.

"Amanda," Lee said hurriedly. "Elisa and I . . . yes, we had dinner, but I swear nothing else happened."

She looked into his distressed hazel eyes and smiled softly. "I know that," she reassured him.

"Did she say something?" Lee asked in surprise.

"No, but I think Elisa would have been quite happy if I believed the opposite."

"Then, how . . . why?"

"That morning when I found you in our office . . . I was so angry at you. But I think it was really a convenient excuse for me not to have to deal with any of this. If I believed you'd chosen someone else, then it would be your fault that we weren't together. I wouldn't have to make a decision of my own." She leaned against him and ran her hand up his chest. "At lunch today, Francine gave me some advice. She said I had good instincts and should just trust myself."

"And?"

"And the whole drive to Alexandria and back, I thought about the last few weeks, everything I've learned about you, how you are with Emily, the time we've spent together and suddenly I just knew I could trust you."

"Amanda," he said earnestly, "we can take this as slow as you like. There's no rush. The important thing is that we're together."

She lifted her head and pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss. Lee tightened his hold on her, but she pushed him away gently. "Uh-uh. Don't you have a tea party waiting for you?"

Lee extended his arm. "Then would you care to be my date?"

"It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Tiggywinkle," she laughed as they headed up the stairs.

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

~~XVIII~~

"I still say I should be the one going in with you and not Francine. The informant specified . . ."

"We've been over all of this, Amanda," he interrupted, a touch of irritation in his voice as he tried to adjust the wire on his chest yet again. For some reason, he couldn't seem to get the damn bug in the right place. "If this is a setup, it's too dangerous to risk both of us."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" she asked, one eyebrow lifting.

He stopped fiddling with the listening device and flashed her a grin. "In theory, anyway."

"Here, let me," she said, rolling her eyes as he continued to worry the small wire. She brushed aside his open shirt and peeled back one side of the tape, making a soft, shushing sound as he flinched. "Sorry," she murmured, rubbing her fingers in gentle circles over the faint adhesive marks as she readjusted the position of the bug.

The space in the back of the surveillance van suddenly felt very small. He covered her hand with his, pressing her fingers against his bare chest. "I think you've found the right spot."

She inhaled deeply, her breath warming his skin as she slowly let it out. Lee could see the emotion she still couldn't voice reflected in her eyes as she looked up at him. Even so, the past few days had been really good. He really should get Francine a box of those Devarona chocolates she loved so much. Her lunch with Amanda had been a definite turning point, and Lee was more hopeful every day that his continued residence in Phillip and Jamie's room would be of short duration.

Reaching out, he brushed a finger gently across her cheek. "Amanda," he began, his voice deep and low. "I just wanted to say . . ."

There was a sudden noise as Francine pulled herself into the back of the van and sat down. "Ready to go?" she inquired with feigned innocence as she immediately took in the nuances of the situation. "Or should I come back in, say, ten minutes?"

Amanda turned away, her cheeks flushing, and Lee hastily rebuttoned his shirt. His mellow feelings dissolved as his temporary partner shot another knowing glance in their direction. "You know, Francine, I think you're even more obnoxious as a brunette," he grumbled.

Francine appeared slightly amused as she slipped one more pin into her dark brown wig. "The CIA car has arrived with our guy's girlfriend, and we're all set to make the exchange," she informed them as she briskly checked her gun. "Everything in working order back here?"

Lee shot a warning glare in Francine's direction as he tucked his shirttail into his pants, then looked to Amanda. She appeared to be a little distracted as she adjusted the listening device in her ear.

Lee frowned. Maybe Francine's timing wasn't as lousy as it seemed. This was no time to lose their focus; too much was riding on the operation. Though Billy still had a few doubts, Lee was optimistic that this might finally prove to be the break they needed.

He glanced at Francine and jerked his head in the direction of the door. Thankfully, she took the hint and left them alone. "You okay?" he asked Amanda quickly.

She wrinkled her nose and tilted her head. "It's the weirdest thing. For some reason, listening in on you and Francine like this makes me feel like I'm . . ."

"Spying?" he supplied, his tone gently teasing.

"Something like that." She let out a deep sigh. "Whatever it is, I don't like it."

"Amanda." He moved closer to her, stooping to avoid hitting his head on the roof of the van. "This is a cakewalk. With a little luck, I'll be out in ten minutes, a sample of that infernal gas safely in my pocket. Then it's only a simple step to the antidote."

"We don't know that, Lee. Even if they do manage to come up with an antidote, Dr. McJohn said there were no guarantees that it would work and . . ."

He put a finger on her lips to silence her. "Some things are worth betting on."

"Maybe," she said, her eyes darting away. "You'd better get going. Francine's waiting."

"Yeah." He grinned as their eyes met. "Keep an eye on my rear, okay? Or an ear, as the case may be."

She replied with a faint smile. He gave her a quick wink and stepped out of the van, but her voice called him back. "Be careful," she cautioned, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I have a bad feeling about this."

Tight-lipped, he motioned for her to take her place up front in the driver's seat then slammed the door. It wasn't until Amanda gave him a quick thumbs up that he moved to join Francine at the end of the block.

"Everything set?" he asked, nodding an acknowledgement to his CIA counterpart, Ken Thompson.

"Yes. Here's your package, Scarecrow." Thompson motioned to the black sedan parked a few feet away. Two men escorted a skittish redhead from the car and deposited her in Francine's custody. "Good luck."

Lee watched the CIA agents drive away then turned to Francine. "Okay, let's do this," he said, slipping his earpiece covertly into place as they started across the street.

His eyes continuously swept over the area as they headed for the warehouse. Except for the surveillance van, the street was deserted, but he knew the Agency backup teams were safely tucked in place. At the door, he paused. "You reading me?" he asked, one hand clutching the knob.

"Loud and clear," came Amanda's reply in his ear.

He nodded to Francine and opened the door, looking over his shoulder one last time. The neighborhood was quiet, almost unnaturally so, the only movement the flicker of pale sunlight on the street. As they entered the cavernous building, he drew his gun, his fingers gripping the handle more tightly than usual.

Their footsteps made a hollow sound against the floor. Everything seemed straightforward enough, but for some reason, Lee couldn't seem to shake the fear that something wasn't right. Maybe it was the strain of the past few weeks popping up in the oddest places. Then again, maybe he'd caught a case of the jitters from Amanda.

Or it could be the anxious expression on the redhead's face. The woman seemed a tad too jumpy for someone who'd just received a get-out-of-jail-free card. Her eyes kept darting around as they waited, almost as if she expected something – or someone – to grab her. He licked his dry lips and stole a glance at his watch. Their informant was late and Lee suddenly had the uncomfortable feeling that he had been there, done that, one time too many.

"Everything okay out there?" he whispered at the microphone hidden beneath his shirt. "Amanda?" he said in a louder tone when she didn't answer. "What's your status?"

When only silence greeted him, he shoved the redhead in Francine's direction and ran for the door. "Get some backup," he shouted over his shoulder, "now!"

He had a vague impression of Francine yelling something in reply, but it was drowned out by the frantic beating of his heart. A setup, his mind screamed; it had to be a setup. Someone must have known about Francine's substitution.

He burst through the door and onto the street only to see the blue van speeding away from the curb. "Amanda!" he yelled as he took off after her on foot. He knew he didn't have the slightest hope of catching her, but he had to try. He couldn't just stand there and watch her drive away, not after what had happened the last time . . .

The last time? Damn, he wasn't even thinking straight. He rounded the corner, but there was no sight of the van. "Amanda," he called again, as if she could hear him. He ran on to the end of the next street, his chest pounding. Where the hell was that backup?

He paused for a minute at the intersection, his breath coming in heaving gasps. Damn it, this was impossible. Had she gone right or left?

That's when he saw it, a pale filter of smoke in the distance. He followed the signal, the smell of gasoline and scorched rubber growing stronger as he drew closer. Oh my God . . .

His eyes widened and for one awful moment he couldn't move. The van had careened off the street and collided with a tree. Thick smoke poured from beneath the hood. From the look of the tires tracks, it had been going fast. Too fast.

"Amanda!" he called, suddenly galvanized into action. He heard a soft groan as he yanked open the door. Amanda was moving about restlessly in her seat. Afraid the car was about to blow, he pulled her into his arms and carried her a safe distance away.

"Can you stand?" he asked, fear still knotting his stomach.

She nodded, and he set her gingerly on her feet. "Shh, shh," he soothed, pressing her against him. "Hang on. Help will be here in a minute."

"Lee," he heard her whisper in muffled tones against his chest. "I can't breathe."

"Where does it hurt?" he demanded, his fingers probing her ribs.

She caught his hand in hers. "I'm okay," she assured him, her voice still slightly breathy. "You were just holding me too tight, that's all."

Relief flooded through him as he looked down into her deep brown eyes. "I really am okay," she said, her voice stronger this time. "I was wearing my seat belt."

"You were what?" he exclaimed, shaking his head. "Oh, Amanda!" He hugged her to him again, more gently this time, his lips brushing through her hair. "When I came out of that warehouse and saw the van pull away from the curb . . ."

"I know. The guy appeared out of nowhere. I didn't think, I just . . ." Her words trailed off and she snuggled in closer for a moment. "I'm sorry I'm shaking so much. I know it's not very professional."

"That's okay," he told her with a brittle laugh. "I must be shaking right along with you, huh?" He loosened his embrace and tilted her chin up to look at him. "Amanda . . . what happened?"

"I don't know. I had my eye on the warehouse door and suddenly there he was, beside me in the van, holding a gun. He ordered me to drive and . . . well, I guess I just reacted instinctively. I ran the van off the road, but I must have lost control for a minute when I tried to disarm him," she said as she glanced ruefully at the van.

"Thank God you're all right," he muttered forcefully as the backup vehicles came to a skidding stop behind them. He had a vague impression of Francine and another agent running past, followed by the faint wail of an ambulance in the distance. He closed his eyes and held onto Amanda, pushing everything else to the background, until he finally heard Francine come up beside them.

"Are you all right, Amanda?" she asked, her eyes filled with concern. "The paramedics are here if you need medical attention."

Amanda shook her head. "I'm not really hurt. What about . . ." Her eyes drifted in the direction of the smoking van again.

"He's alive, but unconscious," Francine informed them, her eyes meeting Lee's over Amanda's shoulder. "And he was carrying this."

Lee frowned as he studied the small inhaler she held in her fingers. "Our boy was about to take another run at us. You know what that means . . ."

"Yes," Francine said, her mouth tight. "It looks like we have a leak in the plumbing. I'd better call Billy."

Lee nodded as he pulled Amanda closer. That could all wait, he thought as he tenderly stroked her back; the debriefing, the antidote, all of it. The only thing that mattered at the moment was that this woman was safe in his arms, that she was okay. "Come on," he whispered, "let's get you checked out."

"For someone who hates hospitals as much as you do, you sure are in a hurry to get me into one," she protested as he guided her towards the paramedics. "I really am okay, Lee."

"Why don't we let the doctors be the judge of that?" he said with an indulgent smile as he helped her lie down. Lee waited until the attendants lifted the gurney into the waiting ambulance then climbed in himself, reaching for Amanda's hand as he settled down beside her. The attendant secured the wheels and closed the doors, banging a few times on the back of the ambulance. The shrill siren sounded loudly as they began to roll, but the only thing Lee heard was Amanda's sweet sigh as she slipped her hand into his. As he felt the gentle pressure of those slender fingers, the last doubt vanished and he suddenly knew.

He didn't just want his life back . . .

He wanted his wife back.

TBC


	20. Chapter 20

~~XIX~~

"Mommy, Mommy, we made you breakfast in bed."

Amanda opened her eyes Sunday morning to see Emily carefully carrying a plate of toast into her bedroom. Lee was following behind, holding a breakfast tray complete with a slim vase of flowers.

"I made the toast all by myself," Emily said proudly, setting the plate on the nightstand.

Lee carefully placed the tray on Amanda's lap then leaned in for a quick kiss. "Sorry to wake you up, but Emily insisted that you had to have a good breakfast in order to get better."

"Gramma says it's the most important meal of the day," Emily chirped, hopping onto the bed beside her mother.

"Whoa, not so fast, young lady, your mom's pretty banged up." Lee picked her up in his arms and swung her around, to Emily's delight.

"I'm fine, Lee," Amanda insisted. "Just a bit bruised, that's all."

"Right." He looked down at her with an expression that said he wasn't buying any of it. Turning back to Emily, he said, "Speaking of your grandma, didn't you promise to help her do some baking today?"

"We're going to make cookies and cupcakes," Emily informed Amanda. "For Gramma's bake sale. The one for her bridges club. I gotta go find the sprinkles. Gramma said I get to put them on all the cupcakes." Lee set her down and she immediately raced out of the room.

"I find it hard to believe I ever had that much energy." Amanda shook her head. "I get tired just watching her sometimes."

Lee laughed. "Dotty thought you'd have a much better chance of getting some rest if she got Emily out of your hair. Remind me to send that woman a huge basket of flowers once all of this is over."

"I know. She's really been a godsend."

Lee nodded. "Now, you just sit here and enjoy your breakfast. I'll make sure Emily has something to eat and then walk her over to your mother's. See you later," he promised, pausing just long enough to wink before heading out the door.

If they ever needed someone to go undercover as a chef, Amanda thought as she worked her way through the abundance of food on the tray, Lee would be her first choice. The broccoli and mushroom frittata he'd prepared was absolutely delicious. He'd even brought her freshly squeezed orange juice.

After finishing as much breakfast as she could, she set the tray aside and headed for the bathroom. Her muscles protested at the simple effort walking required, and she moved slowly and carefully.

Fifteen minutes later, Lee returned to find her cautiously making her way back across the bedroom. "Amanda, what do you think you're doing?" he chided, hurrying to her side. He slipped an arm around her and carefully helped her back into bed.

"Lee, I'm fine," she protested.

"You don't have to pretend around me." He shook his head. "I'm not five years old, you know."

She ran her eyes over him appreciatively as she stretched out. "No, I can see that." Closing her eyes, she settled back against the pillows. "I can't believe how sore I am. It didn't seem nearly so bad yesterday afternoon."

"Your muscles stiffened up overnight," Lee explained, gently tucking the quilt around her. "It's amazing how bruised you can get from a seatbelt. The first time it happened to me, I was almost convinced it would have been less painful to have gone through the windshield."

"Do you mean to tell me there was a time you actually wore a seat belt?" she teased, opening her eyes and giving him a quick smile.

"On occasion," he said, thrusting his hands into his pockets. He stood back awkwardly, as if unsure what to do next.

Amanda patted the empty space next to her. "Why don't you sit with me for a while? I could use the company."

"Sure, if you'd like." He walked around the bed and carefully stretched out on her right-hand side.

"So what are your plans for the day?" she asked him.

"Well, this feels pretty good right now." He smiled at her. "But I think I'd better go into the office at some point. I doubt if McJohn's been able to do much with the gas this quickly, but I'd like to see if they've managed to find out anything from that scuzzball who attacked you yesterday. Billy called earlier to say he'd regained consciousness."

"Hard to believe we might actually be closing in on an antidote," Amanda said quietly. "It's been six weeks and I'd almost given up."

"Well, there's still no guarantee that they'll be able to come up with something that works." He looked down at her with an anxious expression. "We keep coming back to the same question - what if they don't. Would it really be so terrible?"

"I'd like to have my memories back, of course, but somehow it doesn't seem as urgent as before." Amanda let out a deep sigh. "I don't know, this past week, I've started to feel like we might actually be building something worthwhile together. And then yesterday . . ." She paused and absently ran her fingers along the seams joining the brightly colored quilt pieces.

"What?" Lee prompted her.

"When that man jumped into the van and pulled a gun on me, for a second all I could think was that . . ." She stopped again and looked up at him. "I thought I might never see you again," she said softly.

"Hey." He reached out and covered her hand with his. "That didn't happen."

"I know." She turned her hand over and laced their fingers together. The warm pressure of Lee's hand in hers helped steady her nerves somewhat. Summoning up all her courage, she reminded herself of how she'd lain awake for hours the night before, letting the events of the day repeatedly play through her mind. She'd almost lost every chance to tell Lee exactly how she felt and had vowed she'd take advantage of the next opportunity that came along.

Only now that it was here, she still found it so hard to put her feelings into words. What if he didn't feel the same way? What if she ended up making a colossal fool of herself?

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to continue. "I just wanted you to know that I . . ." Despite all her resolve, her voice died away to little more than a whisper. "That I . . . love you." She held her breath as her words hung in the air between them.

"Amanda," he said, his voice caressing her name. "I was never so scared in my entire life as when I saw that van disappearing around the corner. Then when I saw it had crashed into the tree, all I could think was that maybe I'd lost you, and . . ." There was such tenderness in his voice that he hardly needed to say the next words. Still it was like a soft spring rain falling onto dry ground as he took both her hands in his and said, "And I love you, too."

"Oh," she breathed. A jolt of happiness, as sharp and crisp as an electric shock, shot through her.

"I love you," he repeated, leaning in and kissing her softly. Again and again he pressed tiny sweet kisses against her face, each of them a caress, and all the time he was whispering her name and repeating those three wonderful words.

She drew her hands out of his grasp and ran her fingers over his chest. Reaching up, she slid them around his neck and into his hair, guiding him until his lips met hers again.

Moaning with pleasure, she opened her lips, touching and tasting his tongue as it probed against hers, pushing into her mouth and filling her with warmth.

She sank down on the bed, pulling him with her, wanting to feel his body pressing against hers. Trying to ignore the darts of pain shooting down from her left shoulder, she shoved the quilt towards the foot of the bed. Any barrier between them, no matter how small, felt like too much at the moment.

Lee's fingers were slow and sure as he slid his hands beneath her nightgown and gently began to draw it up over her body. Biting her lip, she tried unsuccessfully to hold back the cry of pain as his hands brushed along her ribcage.

"Amanda, I'm so sorry." Lee gently rolled away from her and lay on his back. He gazed up at the ceiling for a few moments, his breath coming in gasps. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she replied, her own breathing uneven and ragged. "But I'm almost positive this isn't what the doctor meant when he said I should be in bed for the next few days." She ran a hand lightly over his chest. "I'm sorry, but I think we're going to have to postpone this for a bit."

"We certainly have a knack for bad timing," Lee said ruefully. "I wonder if things were this difficult the first time around."

She laughed. "If they were, I'm not sure I want to remember."

"I've got an idea." He stretched out on his left side, propping himself up on his elbow. "Next Saturday is our anniversary."

"I know," she said, thinking of the pink box of lingerie still hidden under her bed.

"Apparently we'd already begun planning our celebration. I found two tickets to New York and a hotel confirmation for the Plaza in my desk drawer at work. Maybe you and I should take a little trip."

She felt her smile spreading across her face. "That sounds wonderful. And by next weekend I'm sure I'll feel fine."

"You felt pretty fine to me today," Lee said, reaching out to brush his hand gently along her cheek.

Amanda reluctantly sat up and straightened her nightgown. "I don't think we should start down that road again just now."

"I know." Lee lay back for a moment and withdrew something from his pocket. Pushing himself up into a sitting position, he said, "But there is something else I think we should do."

"What?"

He held out his hand and slowly opened his fingers. Three rings lay there in his palm.

"Amanda." His hazel eyes were dark with emotion as he held her gaze. "I know we're officially married, but I still want to ask . . . would you be my wife?"

"I love you, Lee," she said softly, "so much. And I can't think of anything I'd like more."

Wordlessly he took her left hand in his and slipped the diamond and gold bands onto her ring finger. Drawing her hand up to his mouth, he brushed his lips along her knuckles, pressing down to bestow a tender kiss on each one.

She picked up the remaining ring. "I believe this is something that belongs to you." Her hand shook slightly as she slipped it onto his finger.

Lee laced his fingers together with hers and held them tightly as he leaned in for another kiss. "I love you, Mrs. Stetson," he said huskily.

For the first time the name sounded oh so right in Amanda's ears. She sighed. "Why do I have the feeling this is going to be a very long week?"

TBC


	21. Chapter 21

Part Four

~~ XX ~~

As the strains from the orchestra swelled again, Lee cast a sideways glance at Amanda. She was leaning slightly forward, following the perfectly blended combination of music and action with rapt attention.

Lee shifted restlessly in his chair. Despite the comfortable seats in the landmark Imperial Theater, he was having an inordinately difficult time sitting still. He stifled a small groan. Dinner and a play . . . What the hell had he been thinking? And a musical, no less. He hated musicals.

Making sure Amanda's eyes were still on center stage, he stole a covert glance at his watch. Good God – almost ten o'clock, and it wasn't even intermission yet! This must be the longest damn musical on Broadway. The prolonged anticipation of the night to come was almost unbearable. Not to mention the odd feeling that it wasn't the first time something like this had happened. His entire body seemed to ache for her touch.

'One day more, one more day . . .' the singers proclaimed loudly from the stage. He shook his head. One more day? He'd be lucky if he lasted one more hour.

He supposed he should be thankful for small favors. At least he didn't have to sit through a performance of 'Cats.' It was bad enough reading about all those damned rabbits Emily was so fond of. If he had to watch a bunch of actors made up like animals singing and dancing, he might go stark, raving mad.

"This is really wonderful, isn't it? Amanda whispered in his ear, punctuating her words with a dreamy sigh.

"It's great," he said, hoping he sounded more convincing than he felt. Amanda really appeared to be enjoying herself. Now if he could only stop thinking about the other ways she could be enjoying herself on their first night in New York, he might actually survive the evening.

Blowing out a short breath, he allowed his eyes to flicker over his wife one more time. He'd never realized it before, but she had the most amazing neck; that low cut dress she was wearing set it off to perfection. Such a pale pink color . . . what had she called it? Oh, yeah . . . ashes of roses. Funny, the mere mention of roses usually took his mind in places he'd rather not go, but tonight, somehow, all he could think about were the soft curves and hidden places he longed to explore. Maybe that amazing perfume had something to do with it. There really ought to be a law against wearing such an intoxicating scent in a public place.

A public place . . .

What kind of an idiot drags their wife to such a public place on their anniversary weekend? Especially when there was a very private suite at the Plaza just sitting there, begging to be put to use.

Lee quietly cleared his throat and forced himself to concentrate on the performance. This kind of thinking wasn't going to get him anywhere, especially since he was pretty sure the men's room here didn't offer shower facilities. And why the hell did they have the heat turned up so high? Sure, he was missing a few years, but the last he remembered, there was still supposed to be an energy crisis. He let out a long breath. Maybe if he could hold on until intermission, he could finally get some air.

As if on cue, the theater lights came up and he turned anxiously to Amanda. She gave him a wistful smile then opened her purse, emptying out its contents as she searched vainly for something.

"Here," he said, rolling his eyes as he handed her a handkerchief.

"Thank you," she murmured, dabbing lightly at her eyes. "The performance is just so moving, don't you think?"

Lee looked at the piece of paper lying in her lap and shrugged. "Whatever 'he' said."

"Well, it would have been a shame to miss it. You obviously went to a lot of trouble to arrange this."

"I plead the fifth." He laughed, ruefully shaking his head. "A three hour and twelve minute play. God only knows what was going through my head."

Amanda opened the note. "In memory of a most remarkable weekend," she read with a short sigh. "I wonder . . ."

Lee watched as a shadow of doubt crossed her face and he questioned once again if he'd done the right thing. He'd found the 'surprise' that morning at the airport, tucked inside the folder with Amanda's plane ticket. Perhaps he should have examined it more closely, but it somehow felt wrong for him to open a note that had obviously been intended for his wife - even if he had been the one who'd written it. So, instead, he'd handed it to her after they boarded the plane for New York. To his dismay, they'd discovered two tickets for 'Les Mis' dated tonight, along with a reminder of their early dinner reservations at Tavern on the Green. Not to mention that cryptic message . . .

It had given them both an eerie feeling, as if they were borrowing someone else's lives for an evening. Still, neither one of them had the heart not to go. The restaurant and this play obviously held some special significance for them.

As Lee watched Amanda caress the note with careful reverence, he leaned over and touched his lips to her cheek. "I can't tell you why he . . . I . . . wrote that," he whispered lovingly, "but I can guarantee you one thing. As soon as this infernal play is over, we're going to make a whole new set of memories neither one of us will forget anytime soon."

She gave him a soft smile. "Promise?"

"You bet I do." He stood suddenly and extended his hand. "Now, let's take advantage of the reprieve and get something to drink."

She met his eyes with a long-suffering look, but allowed him to lead her through the crowd and out into the lobby. "I think there must be a full house tonight," Amanda said as he returned with two glasses of Chablis.

"Maybe it just looks that way. The Imperial is a little smaller than the Broadway Theater where the play originally opened."

"I can certainly see why 'Les Mis' won eight Tony awards. Yeah, I read the playbill, too," she said as he raised an eyebrow.

"Then you probably noticed that the second act is considerably shorter than the first," he told her with a grin.

Her smile matched his. "Let's hope so."

"And here I thought you were the one who didn't want to miss this."

"What can I say?" she responded with a quick laugh. "I'm only human, after all."

"Yeah, I'll say." The large lobby suddenly seemed to shrink until it seemed as if it held only the two of them. "You look so beautiful tonight," he murmured as he stepped even closer. His lips pressed against hers and gently covered her mouth. The brief contact sent a current of desire through him, and he quickly pulled back. "I suppose I couldn't convince you to stage a small revolt of our own and sneak out of here early?"

Before she could answer, the house lights began to blink. "I think someone's trying to tell us something," she laughed. "Come on, Lee, let's go find our seats. Don't worry - the playbill says there's only one hour left."

"One hour and twelve minutes," he muttered to himself as he followed her back in to the theater. Yes, there was no doubt about it. He must have been absolutely out of his mind.

TBC


	22. Chapter 22

Authors' note: this is one of two chapters in this story that have two versions: the K rated one posted here and a M rated one posted separately.

~~ XXI ~~

"Lee, what are you doing?" Amanda paused just inside the Plaza's elegant Fifth Avenue lobby and looked back at her husband.

"Jotting down the number of our cab. That driver should be reported." He tucked the small notebook back into his inside jacket pocket and caught up with her.

"It's hardly his fault the cab got a flat tire. Now where are you going?" she asked in exasperation as he headed off towards a side alcove.

"The stairs are over here." He motioned over his shoulder.

"The elevators are over there," she countered.

"Not a chance," he said, shaking his head. "After everything that's happened to us so far, I am not trusting those elevators."

"And I am not climbing ten flights of stairs wearing heels. Lee, you're being ridiculous." She blew out an exasperated breath and tapped her foot against the marble floor.

"Am I?" He walked over to her and leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a dramatic whisper. "Need I remind you that the cloakroom at the theater managed to misplace your ticket? It took them over twenty minutes to find your coat."

She rolled her eyes. "I think all your years in espionage have made you paranoid."

"Trust me, Amanda, those elevators are just waiting to break down with us on board. I'm certain of it."

"Then we'll find some way to keep ourselves occupied until someone rescues us." She tugged on his tie and pulled him across the lobby. "Come on, I thought you were the one who was so anxious to get back to our suite."

"I still say there's a conspiracy against us," Lee muttered as they stepped into the waiting elevator.

"See, nothing bad is going to happen," Amanda said as the doors shut them in. "In fact, this actually gives us a bit of privacy." She reached up and kissed him, slowly and leisurely.

"Hmm . . . you may have a point." Lee stroked his hands down her neck and under her coat collar. As their lips meshed together again, he eased her coat over her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

Amanda smiled. "I bet you wouldn't mind if the elevator broke down right now." She ran her fingers over his shirtfront and undid the knot on his tie.

"Ahem." They both looked up, startled, as the elevator doors slid open and an elderly couple entered. The woman seemed to be particularly affronted, sniffing loudly and gazing at them coldly through her spectacles.

Lee quickly snatched up Amanda's coat from the floor, holding it nonchalantly in front of him.

"I guess it would have helped if we'd actually pressed the button for our floor," Amanda whispered, trying to stifle her laughter by burrowing her face into his shoulder. Lee scowled down at her, before reaching out and punching the button marked '10'.

Maybe Lee did have a point about a conspiracy, she reflected as the other couple turned out to be staying several floors above them. The silence in the elevator was deafening as they slowly rode up.

"I swear, we're taking the stairs from now on," Lee said as they finally exited on their floor.

Amanda was thankful that they didn't run into any more hotel guests as they made their way down the hallway. She took out their room key from her purse and opened the door as quickly as she could.

"Wait just one second," she said to Lee. "I'm beginning to think you might have a point about all these interruptions." Unhooking the 'Do Not Disturb' sign, she leaned around the door and hung it on the outside doorknob.

"It's actually a little late for that," Lee said as he closed the door and snapped the deadbolt into place. "You've been disturbing my thoughts for quite some time."

Amanda stood in the foyer watching as he dropped her coat on a heap on the floor. His eyes never left hers as he covered the short distance between them, slipping off his own jacket and tossing it off to the side.

"Alone at last," he murmured, kissing her lightly on the lips.

A shiver of anticipation swept through her. Alone. No family or work requiring their attention. No more interruptions to distract them.

Short and sweet at first, their kisses grew in intensity. The pressure of his lips became demanding as he moved from her mouth to her neck.

Amanda's breath caught in her throat, and she involuntarily took a step away from him. "Wait," she blurted out, reaching up and nervously covering the neckline of her dress.

Lee stood there, clearly bewildered. "Amanda, what's wrong?"

"It's just . . . I have a scar on my left side," she said hesitantly.

"From the seatbelt last week? I didn't realize you were hurt that badly."

"No, not from that. From before . . . from something else," she broke off awkwardly.

"Then how did it happen?" he asked, a bewildered look flickering briefly across his face. He shook his head, as if trying to force an illusive memory to the surface. "Amanda, how bad was it?" he demanded in a low, intense voice.

"I'll tell you later," she whispered, not wanting to go into detail about what her mother had told her. "I just thought you should know . . . in case you . . ." She ducked her head and looked away.

"Amanda." Lee shook his head and took her by both arms. "You don't really think something like that would change the way I feel about you?"

She tried to smile back, but somehow it didn't quite take. "Not really," she said, sounding only half-convinced even to her own ears. "But . . ."

"Look." He stepped away from her and quickly unbuttoned his shirt. "You've got one scar? I've got at least half a dozen." He indicated a small abrasion just under his ribcage. "This one's from a disagreement over a bar bill I had years ago in Tunisia."

She managed a genuine smile as he drew his shirt away from his right side and pointed out a long, smooth discoloration against his skin. "I don't even know where this one came from. I guess I just forgot to duck sometime in the last nine years."

Amanda slowly reached out and ran her fingers along the slight marking. Lee leaned in and brushed his lips against her hair. "So, tell me - does any of that make a difference to you?"

She gently ran her hands up over his chest, splaying her fingers out and skimming over the warmth of his skin.

"Amanda," he said, his voice quivering ever so slightly, "are you listening to me?"

Her only response was to slowly slide her hands down his ribcage again.

"Amanda," Lee repeated once more.

"Hmm . . . did you say something?" she asked, absorbed in the task of tugging his shirttails out of his pants.

He reached out and put a finger under her chin, raising her head so he could kiss her again, slow and deep and full of longing. "You know, that's really not fair," he murmured. "I showed you mine, now you show me yours."

She stepped out of his arms and extended her hand. "Right this way," she said, a slow smile breaking out on her face as she moved toward the bedroom.

TBC


	23. Chapter 23

~~XXII~~

"Good morning, Mrs. Stetson."

Brushing aside his wife's hair, Lee pressed tiny kisses along the curve of her neck. He'd awoken only a few minutes earlier to the wonder of her closeness and to the astonishing feeling of her body tucked warmly against his own.

"It is now," Amanda responded as she leisurely turned over. She kissed him and spoke with her lips brushing his. "Did you sleep well?"

"Amazingly well," he remarked as he stretched out his long limbs, still heavy from sleep. "I have to say, this bed is a definite improvement over the one in the boys' room."

"I guess that twin bed of Jamie's is a little small." Amanda smiled as she watched him. "This king sized one is much better."

"There's certainly more room to maneuver, I'll give you that," he said, a twinkle in his eyes as he rolled back to face her. "But the size of this bed doesn't hold a candle to some of its other fringe benefits."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"Such as waking up with my wife and being able to do this." Leaning over, he touched his lips softly to hers.

"Hmm," Amanda said, feigning a frown. "That doesn't seem like much of a fringe benefit to me."

"No?" He cocked his head and pretended to study the problem. "Well, then, how about this." He placed his hands on either side of her face and drew her closer, opening her mouth with his. He kissed her slowly and thoroughly, moving his tongue lazily against hers, until he heard the sigh that came from deep within her throat.

"I'd say that's a definite improvement," she gasped breathlessly when at last he released her.

"Good. We aim to please around here."

Amanda laughed. "I don't think you need to have any worries on that score."

"Neither do you," Lee said, smiling as Amanda sighed happily and cuddled against him. Her head seemed to fit perfectly into the niche between his neck and shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her to pull her closer. She responded by sliding her left arm across his ribcage and resting a leg on top of his, the gentle weight as pleasurable as the intimate caresses they had shared only a few short hours ago.

"What time is it?" Amanda murmured, languidly stifling a yawn.

"Almost eleven, I think. Of course if you really want to know . . ."

He started to extricate himself from her embrace, but she held him fast. "Never mind," she instructed in a low voice, "if it means you have to move, I don't need to know."

"Good," Lee said, making a low, guttural noise as she buried her lips in his neck. "I don't especially want to move at the moment." He found himself amazingly content just to hold this woman in his arms. He'd never experienced anything quite like this before; the feeling was almost like coming home after a prolonged absence. After all the weeks of awful uncertainty, everything finally felt so right between them.

A sudden gurgling noise took him by surprise. "Sorry," Amanda said as her stomach growled loudly again. "I guess my body seems to have a mind of its own at the moment."

"Oh, yeah?" he said, his eyes flashing as he looked at her.

She laughed. "I was talking about food," she said, playfully tickling his ribs.

"That won't work," he grinned. "I'm not ticklish."

"Oh, come on, everybody's ticklish." She paused, a sudden frown crossing her face.

"Hey, if it really means that much to you, I suppose I could always try to fake it."

"No, it's not that . . . I just . . . oh, never mind, it's not important."

He frowned. "Amanda, I was only kidding," he started to explain but she abruptly rolled on top of him, driving the thought from his head as she rubbed against him.

"So," she said with a provocative smile, "are you gonna feed me or what?"

"I vote for 'or what'," he laughed, raising his head to quickly kiss her. "But if you insist, we could always call room service." He smiled as he glanced in the direction of the nightstand. "Or maybe this might tide you over until lunch."

Rolling her to one side, he reached across her, his fingers closing around the small, rectangular chocolate bar covered in bright gold foil. "Here you go," he said, opening the wrapper and holding the treat tantalizingly between his thumb and forefinger. "I believe candy is the traditional gift for a sixth anniversary."

She raised an eyebrow. "It is?"

"Yeah," he said, wrinkling his forehead as he tried to decipher how he happened to know that. He must have read it somewhere. It was so strange . . . his mind seemed to have an amazing capacity for recalling useless information, while the important things, the things he wanted to remember, appeared to have vanished into a great void.

He felt a sudden pressure on his wrist. "Hey, are you going to let me starve?" she inquired with a small pout, guiding his hand to her mouth and nibbling at the soft, messy candy. "It must be pretty hot in here," she murmured as she ran her tongue over her lips. "The chocolate's melted all over you." She leaned forward and sucked first his thumb, then his finger into mouth, swirling her tongue around and around as she licked off the last remnants of the makeshift breakfast.

Warm memories of the passion they'd shared flooded through him in ever-widening ripples of desire. "Hey, Mrs. Stetson," he murmured in a roughened voice. "Did I happen to mention how incredible last night was?"

Her laugh was low, sexy. "I seem to remember hearing something about that," she said, turning her head to plant a teasingly brief chocolate kiss on his lips. "Among other things."

As Amanda locked her eyes with his, Lee suddenly felt almost dizzy with wanting her. How could one woman make him feel so . . . so lost and found at the same time?

He bent over her and began to caress her slowly, with long gentle strokes. He heard her breathing grow faster as he kissed her, first lightly on her forehead and eyelids, then more hungrily as his lips found their way across her cheek to her neck. Encouraged by her soft murmurs of pleasure, he opened his mouth and let his tongue trail down the center of her chest. He felt her fingers tangle in his hair, directing him to one side, and he happily obliged, kissing and licking his way toward her left breast. As his lips brushed over the slight imperfection of her skin, he suddenly pulled back.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice becoming almost plaintive in its uncertainty.

"Nothing," he assured her quickly, "it's only . . ." He placed just the tip of his finger on her scar. "You said last night you'd explain how this happened," he finished as he lightly traced its outline with loving strokes.

She bit her lip and nodded, closing her hand around his and pressing it against her chest to cover the puckered mark. "I was shot."

He drew a shuddering breath and turned away, his eyes fixed blankly on the ceiling. He'd known she was going to say that, of course; he'd certainly had enough experience to recognize a bullet wound when he saw one. But somehow the simple act of her reciting the words aloud made what was acceptable in the abstract all too real. The wound was so close to her heart. My God, he could have lost her, and it would have been all his . . .

"No," he heard her say suddenly. "You don't understand."

"You're wrong, Amanda," he replied almost harshly. "I'm afraid I understand perfectly."

"No, you don't," she said, her tone growing more commanding when he didn't respond. "Lee Stetson, look at me."

He closed his eyes for a minute as he drew a deep breath then reluctantly faced her.

"This was **not** your fault," she said, her voice gentle now. "It was an accident, and it had nothing at all to do with work."

His eyes narrowed. "How do you know that?"

"Mother told me," she said simply.

"Amanda . . ." He let out a deep sigh as he rolled to one side and propped himself up on his elbow. "That doesn't mean anything. Did it occur to you that maybe your mother was only telling you what she believed to be the truth?"

"No, I don't think . . ." She sat up and tugged the sheet up over her chest, covering herself. Her mouth tightened as she thoughtfully massaged the scar. "No," she reiterated more firmly. "We couldn't have been working. We were out in California on . . . on our honeymoon."

"Our honeymoon?" Lee pulled himself up to rest against the headboard. He suddenly wasn't sure what was worse . . . knowing she'd been hurt while on duty or off. At least on the job, danger was an accepted part of their routine. But in their personal lives . . .

He exhaled loudly and slowly as he held out his arms. "Come here," he said, the directive couched in a tone of infinite tenderness. "Now I know why you didn't want to talk about this last night," he muttered, his fingers stroking through her hair as she nestled against him. "I can't even begin to imagine what it must been like to go through that."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." She shut her eyes and sighed, then went on in a low voice, "It's kind of funny, though. I know intellectually that I was shot . . . I mean, I see the evidence every day . . . but somehow, I can't connect with what happened emotionally, you know? It's like it's a story you read in the newspaper about something terrible that happened to somebody else. You can sympathize, but can't really know what they went through . . . inside."

"Yeah, but . . . I can't believe this doesn't bother you more," he said as her dark eyes looked up at him. "My God, Amanda . . . our honeymoon. And you could have died . . ."

"But I didn't." She placed a few butterfly kisses on his chest. "What really bothers me most about all this is knowing how bad it must have been for you. But at least you weren't alone to deal with all this. You had family to help."

"Family?" He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Mother," she said. "She told me she came out there as soon as you called her."

Taking her by the shoulders, he sat up and pushed her away from him. "Amanda," he said, cupping her cheek gently with his hand as he weighed how much to say.

"What aren't you telling me, Lee?" she asked softly.

He sighed loudly. It was her life, too. She had a right . . . a need . . . to know. "Your mother didn't know we were married, Amanda," he said, his voice suddenly quiet. "Nobody did. We kept the marriage a secret. We eloped."

"Eloped? But we have wedding pictures . . ." She stiffened, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him. "How do you know this?"

"Phillip told me, that weekend he came home unexpectedly."

"Maybe Phillip was confused. I mean, the same way you said Mother might be . . ."

Lee shook his head. "No, this wasn't a cover story. Francine confirmed it. She'd made some comment about Beaman throwing me a bachelor party after the wedding," he put in quickly, "so when Phillip let the information slip about our 'mystery marriage', I decided to do a little investigating of my own. We were definitely married in a private ceremony in Marion . . . well, six years ago today," he finished with a tentative smile.

"And we kept it a secret?" Her eyes widened. "What were we, out of our minds?"

"Apparently so." He grinned. "I can't imagine ever wanting to hide the fact that I was married to you."

She wrinkled her forehead. "Neither can I. If the whole thing was supposed to be such a big secret, then I wonder . . ." He saw her eyebrows shoot up as she mentally did the math. "Oh my gosh!"

"Yeah. I got the feeling Emily came as something of a surprise."

Amanda shook her head. "Now that's one thing I really wish I could remember," she said, her tone becoming playful again. "Exactly when and how our daughter was conceived."

"Well, maybe I could help you with that last past," Lee offered in response to her growing grin. "I may be a little vague on the 'when', but I'm fairly confident I have the 'how' down pat."

"You are, huh?" Throwing off the sheet, she stretched out on the bed and patted the space beside her. "I think maybe we'll just have to see about that."

The expression of love on her face belied the teasing tone of her words, causing a reaction in Lee as strong and immediate as the most intimate caress. He let his eyes drift over her, as if committing every inch of her to memory, before slowly lowering his body until it was barely touching hers. She let out a short sigh and he kissed her long and hard and deep, pushing thoughts of anything else out of his mind. Let it be the way Amanda had said . . . the scar and the accident that caused it were part of a life neither one of them could remember. The present, right now, this moment . . . that was what mattered. From this moment forward, they would build a new life together, a new love.

He felt her watching him, and met her gaze with a soft smile. He saw the unspoken desire in her dark eyes, the pulse of her heartbeat in her throat, and suddenly the room seemed to darken, holding nothing but the two of them. His thoughts stopped as his body began to move of its own volition, his mouth blazing a trail down her chest past her scar to her stomach, leaving a host of wet kisses in its wake. "I love you," he cried, burying his face in her soft, yielding flesh.

He heard her sharp intake of breath and felt the tender touch of her fingers in his hair. "I love you, too," she whispered, as if it was a special secret only they shared. "And I want you."

As she opened her legs, he looked up at her and smiled before he moved lower. He wanted her, too, more than he could even say. There was no way they would be leaving this room today, he thought absently, then even that pleasant notion faded away as the outside world receded. None of it mattered . . . not the sunlight streaming in through the window, the muffled noises from far away in the hallway, the shrill, blaring sound of the phone . . .

The phone?

He groaned as Amanda tugged on his hair. "Ignore it," he advised, his words little more than a growl. "It'll go away."

"Lee." Her voice was low, hoarse, deepened by passion. "We can't. It's not your cell phone, it's the hotel phone. Mother is the only one who has this number."

As the phone continued to ring with annoying persistence, he reluctantly rolled away, pulling a pillow over his head. As if from a distance, he heard Amanda draw a deep, long breath as she struggled to compose herself, then say a soft, breathy, 'hello' into the damned telephone. "Oh, hello, Mother," she continued, her voice a little stronger. "No . . . no, really . . . it's all right."

He tossed the pillow aside and pulled himself up beside her, propping himself up on one elbow. His wife was blushing like a teenager caught necking in the backseat of a car, and he couldn't help but smile. "No, really, it's okay," she said, a note of exasperation creeping into her voice at what he could only assume was another apology. "Of course I want to talk to her now." Her voice took on a tender quality as she murmured, "Hi, sweetheart . . . Yes, Mommy and Daddy miss you, too."

Lee lay back on the bed. Their daughter certainly had incredibly bad timing, he thought with a grin; maybe it was genetic. Once they got home, he had a feeling they were going to have to resort to some creative planning to ensure a little private time together. It was a good thing he enjoyed a challenge . . .

He felt Amanda nudge him gently in the ribs. "Yes, Daddy's right here. I love you, too, Em." She handed him the phone with a smile.

"Hey, Emily." Amanda started to rise but he shook his head. "You and Grandma made popcorn? That sounds like fun," he managed to say, frowning slightly as his wife ignored his silent entreaty. He made a grab for her, but she eluded his grasp and slipped from the bed. Blowing him a kiss, she extracted something from her suitcase and headed into the bathroom.

Lee let out a soundless sigh. "Are you being a good girl for Grandma?" he asked, shoving a pillow behind his back as he reclined against the headboard. He vaguely heard Emily prattling on about a shopping trip to buy a present for someone's birthday party but his eyes and his attention were trained on the closed bathroom door. "Yes, Emily," he said, struggling to get a word in between her hurried sentences, "we'll both be home tomorrow, I promise. Daddy's got to go now, okay? Yes . . . yes, I love you, too."

He replaced the phone on the hook and sank back into the pillows with a groan. He had nothing to feel guilty about, he reminded himself, his daughter's slightly petulant, 'I miss you,' echoing in his ears. He and Amanda deserved some time alone together. It was their anniversary, after all . . . their honeymoon, of sorts. Right?

Lee exhaled sadly. Maybe there was time for a quick stop at F.A.O. Schwartz tomorrow before they left for the airport.

His eyes drifted back to the bathroom and he quickly called out, "Amanda, I'm off the phone." When nothing but silence greeted him, he pushed off the bed and walked over to the door, knocking gently. "Amanda? It's getting kind of lonely out here," he moaned, his tone suddenly sounding amazingly like Emily's a few moments ago.

Abruptly the door opened and Amanda stepped out. "I was just trying on your present," she said, a slow smile playing around her lips. "Do you like it?" She watched him slyly out of the corner of eye as she slowly turned around.

He swallowed hard. The pale peach teddy clung to her in all the right places, almost like a second skin. "Wow," he choked out, "you look absolutely amazing in that."

"Thank you," she returned with a smoldering smile. "I thought it was a very practical gift. One we both can share."

He closed his arms around her and pulled her to him, the silk material of the gown soft against his bare chest. "Well, I can definitely see what you get out of it," he said with a grin as he fingered a delicate strap, "but somehow I don't think this will look quite the same on me."

Amanda rolled her eyes. "I get to wear it. You," she said, emphasizing the word with a quick kiss, "get to unwrap it."

"Hmm," he murmured, as she pointed to her right side. The teddy was held together by a series of criss-crossed straps tied at the bottom in a looping bow. In response to his mild tug, the closure instantly released. "I definitely like the way you think," Lee said with a smile as he caught Amanda's eye. "What do you say, Mrs. Stetson, shall we pick up where we left off?"

She nodded gently. "It would be my pleasure."

"Exactly my intention," he said with a huge grin as he swept her into his arms and carried her back to the bed.

TBC


	24. Chapter 24

~~XXIII~~

"That's wonderful, sweetheart. You have a good time at Julie's birthday party and we'll be home in a few hours. I love you." Amanda turned the cell phone off and handed it back to Lee with a sigh. "It's amazing," she said wistfully. "Seven weeks ago I had no idea who Emily was, and now I miss her so much."

"Me, too." Lee closed his hand over hers. "Did she say if she liked the flowers?" he asked.

"Which ones?" She reached down and tucked the shopping bag containing a large teddy bear between their suitcases, out of the way of the passengers hurrying to their gates.

"What do you mean, which ones? The flowers I arranged to have delivered to the house for Valentine's Day. Since we'd be traveling most of the day, I thought it would be better to have them sent there."

She grinned up at him. "Except that there were two deliveries of flowers to the house today."

"Who sent the other one?" He narrowed his eyes.

Amanda's grin widened. "You did."

Lee blew out an exasperated breath. "You know, this guy is a bit much to live up to sometimes. Who orders their Valentine's flowers in December?"

"Someone who loves his daughter and wife very much." She ran fingers over the back of his hand, lightly touching his wedding band. "And whose daughter and wife love him very much."

"I hope Emily didn't mind us going away too much," he said. "Yesterday on the phone she sounded so sad."

"You're such a soft touch." She squeezed his hand. "You can break a KGB agent in no time, but a five year old can totally take you in. Mother said she and Emily had a great weekend together."

"How about you?" Lee looked at her with a playful gleam in his eye. "Did you have a good weekend?"

"I did. One could even say it was 'remarkable'." She laced the fingers of her left hand together with his, holding them up so her diamond caught the light. Bringing his hand up to her face, she lightly rubbed his knuckles along the curve of her cheek. "We might not remember our marriage, but I can't imagine that it could have been better than this."

"Me neither." The look in his eyes was incredibly soft and tender. "Happy Valentine's Day, Amanda."

She leaned against him, wrapping her happiness around her like a blanket. The day before might have been their sixth wedding anniversary, but she felt as if this was just the beginning. This marriage was different from her first in so many ways.

Of course, Lee was utterly unlike Joe, who'd been so caught up in helping other people that he'd somehow let his own family slip away.

She knew how difficult the sudden transition from bachelor to family man must have been for Lee at times. But he'd thrown himself into it with everything he had. He'd worked hard to establish a rapport with his stepsons, making time to chat with Jamie whenever he phoned home. He'd even gone out of his way to make sure Phillip was okay, calling specifically to check up on whatever it was they'd discussed the other weekend. And Emily . . . he'd spent countless hours with their daughter, reading to her, listening to her stories about her days at preschool, even that silly tea party. Her lips twitched as the image of him crammed into the tiny chair, wearing Emily's dress up clothes came to mind again.

"What's so funny?" Lee asked.

"Nothing." She nudged him affectionately. "I was just thinking about how cute you looked at Emily's tea party. And then I starting wondering what kind of costumes you might be willing to put on for me."

He laughed. "Is that a challenge? Maybe you should be careful what you wish for."

"I don't think I could wish for anything more than this." She smiled up at him and gently kissed his lips. Mindful of the watching eyes in the airport lounge, she drew back much sooner than she would have liked. The cell phone rang again, interrupting them.

"Billy, you just caught us," Lee answered it. "Our plane's boarding in a few minutes." He stood up and whispered to Amanda, "I'll be right back."

She watched him walk away from the crowds of passengers and move to an unobtrusive corner by the window. Unable to hear any of the conversation, she carefully studied Lee's expression. It must have been an urgent matter for Billy to contact them while they were off duty.

Their conversation was a lengthy one, and by the time Lee returned to the gate, the airline staff was just about to close the doors.

"What did Billy have to say?" Amanda asked anxiously as they hurried down the jetway. "Good news?"

"Sort of," Lee said cryptically. "I'll explain everything once we're on board."

She waited patiently through the routine of takeoff and the flight crew's lengthy explanation about the intricacies of seatbelt use.

"Okay, what did Billy tell you?" she whispered.

"McJohn's got an antidote ready," he said shortly.

"Lee! That's wonderful! Isn't it?" she asked, his frown causing a small kernel of doubt to take hold.

"It's not quite that simple."

"Mr. and Mrs. Stetson, would you care for a drink?"

Amanda jumped a bit as Lee abruptly looked up, both of them startled at the sound of the flight attendant's voice. "No, we're fine," he waved her away then turned back to Amanda. "Maybe this discussion should just wait until we're back in D.C. We may be flying first class, but this still isn't exactly the most private of places."

Amanda pursed her lips and nodded. "You're right."

He seemed surprised at her rapid agreement, as if he'd been expected a protracted argument.

Unbuckling her seatbelt, she got up and stood in the aisle. "Come on."

"Where are you going?" he asked in bewilderment.

"Somewhere more private, of course." She grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet.

"Amanda, this is ridiculous," he said a few minutes later. He tried to run his hand through his hair in frustration, only to hit it against the low ceiling of the airplane's miniscule lavatory.

"Lee, I'm sorry, but I am **not** waiting until we get back home." She pushed him down onto the only seat in the tiny room and leaned against the sink. "Now, I found us a little privacy, so tell me - what's the problem with the antidote?"

Lee shook his head then evidently realized he might as well give in sooner rather than later. "McJohn's only about seventy percent sure that it will be successful."

She drew in a deep breath. Somehow, she'd been hoping for a more optimistic prognosis. "Still, that's pretty good," she said, as much to reassure herself as him, "and if it doesn't work the first time, we can always just try again."

Lee, however, was shaking his head. "I asked Billy about that. From what McJohn told him, apparently it's not the sort of medication you should be exposed to over and over. Too much and there's a risk of permanent brain damage."

"I see." Amanda sighed. "I guess it's some consolation that if it doesn't work, we won't be any worse off than we are now." She caught sight of the expression on his face. "Right?"

Lee was looking down at his hands. "That's where it gets tricky. McJohn thinks that should be the case, but he's not positive there isn't at least a slight risk of our memories, uh, regressing even further."

"Oh." Amanda slumped back against the sink as the implication of his words sank in. They'd worked so hard to get back to where they were, and now, suddenly it could all be taken away from them again. "It's just not fair," she said, almost to herself.

"Hey, no one ever said life was fair." Lee reached out and took her hand in his. "But whatever happens . . ." he stood as best he could, crouching to put his arms around her, "we've got each other. Most people in this business end up with a helluva lot less." Some unexpected turbulence rocked him forward, jamming her hip against the side of the sink. "Sorry," he whispered as he held her close, running his hands over her back in a soothing motion.

"It's okay." She nuzzled against him, breathing in his scent and wanting never to let go. "Lee, I . . ."

A sudden pounding on the door made them both jump, or at least what would have been a jump if they hadn't been in such cramped quarters. "Ouch," Lee muttered, awkwardly releasing her to rub his elbow.

"I guess coming in here wasn't such a good idea," Amanda said with a sigh as she slid open the lock.

The irate passenger on the other side of the door seemed to second that opinion. "It's about time," she indignantly greeted Amanda as she exited out of the lavatory. "You're not the only one on this plane . . ." Her rant sputtered off when she saw Lee.

"Excuse me," he muttered as he edged his way past the surprised passenger.

The woman stepped aside, her mouth curving up into a smile as she looked him over from head to toe. Amanda couldn't help but laugh. Under normal circumstances, she might have been more than a little embarrassed at the obvious implication of such a knowing grin, but it didn't really faze her at the moment. The reality of their predicament was so much more serious.

And the discussion of it was far from over. As they made their way back down the aisle to their seats, she could see from the set of Lee's jaw that he had something else to say.

He waited until they were seated, then began in a low voice, "You know, Amanda . . ."

She quickly cut him off, recognizing what she'd come to call his 'why don't you wait in the car' voice. "No," she said firmly, certain she didn't want to hear the rest of his sentence.

"I was just thinking that maybe it would be better if only one of us tried it out first," he persisted.

"No," she repeated.

"Look, just hear me out, okay." He held her hand in his, one finger idly toying with her diamond. "The Justice Department really only needs one good witness to nail Finch."

"Fine," she said complacently, "then I get to be the one who tries it."

"No," he answered, just as emphatically.

"Yes."

"No."

She sat back and glared at him. "So when something dangerous comes along, you just automatically should be the one to take all the risks, and I'm the one who should wait on the sidelines. Like when you decided that Francine should pose as your partner when you went into that warehouse."

"Amanda, I'm thinking about our family," he said intently. "This way, no matter what happens, Emily and the boys will still have their mother."

She shook her head again. "No. We got into this together, and I think we both deserve the same chance to take the antidote." She took a deep breath. "So, when do we try it?" she asked.

He leaned back in his seat. "Jury selection for Finch's trial starts tomorrow. In cases like this, it could take several days, but obviously Justice would like to have us ready sooner rather than later. Billy said McJohn's ready for us anytime." Looking down at her intently, he added, "We could go in to the Agency tonight."

"That soon?" She reached out and rubbed her thumb against the edges of the magazine in the seat pocket in front of her. It all seemed to be happening so quickly. "Could we wait until tomorrow?" she asked in a small voice, looking out the window.

"Tomorrow?" He flipped up the arm rest and moved closer to her.

"The thing is, I know the antidote's going to work," she said firmly, trying her best to keep her voice from shaking. "It's just . . . I want to spend the evening with Emily. I want to call the boys." She turned and snuggled against him. "And for one night I want you where you belong. With me, in our room."

"Amanda." Lee put his arm around her and drew her close. "It's going to be okay. The odds are this time tomorrow we'll have our memories back."

"I know. I'm just a bit scared." She looked up at him and smiled. "I shouldn't admit that I know, but I can't help it."

"It's okay." He pulled her against him and held her tightly. "I'm scared, too."

TBC


	25. Chapter 25

~~XXIV~~

"Whose picture was removed from the Georgetown foyer?"

Lee groaned in frustration. No question about it, he absolutely hated all things medical. It was no wonder health costs kept skyrocketing when doctors insisted on wasting time with such useless trivia.

"That would be Harry V. Thornton," he answered with as much patience as he could muster, "the founder of the Agency. And before you ask, his new cat's name is Ike, Jr., he's married to Christina Golitsyn, formerly of the Soviet Union, and they just bought a ranch in Montana. At least, that's what he said in his Christmas card." He glowered at Dr. McJohn. "Now, are you finally convinced that there's not a damn thing wrong with my memory?"

"Relax, Scarecrow. I've only got a few more questions. If your memory is as complete as you claim, then you know full well that this is standard Agency procedure."

"It's not standard procedure to grill a man for hours," he grumbled.

McJohn smiled. "We've only been at this for twenty minutes."

Lee rolled his eyes then tried a different tactic. "Come on, Colonel, give me a break. I'll answer anything you want after I've seen Amanda."

"The sooner we finish up here, the sooner you can do just that," the good doctor chuckled, seeing right through his ruse. "Now, let's get back to business. The current head of the Agency is . . ."

"A pompous, nursery rhyme spouting ass," Lee snapped, his tolerance for the absurd finally spent. "And be sure to quote me word for word in your damned report. Now, I'm out of here," he said, jumping off bed and barreling towards the door.

A large, uniformed agent barred his way. Lee raised his eyebrows. Where did they find these recruits? The guy looked like he could play the entire backfield for the Washington Redskins. "This is ridiculous," he shouted, his frustration reaching new heights as he saw no way around the burly guard. "This is my wife we're talking about. Surely I have a right to see her!"

"Well, well, well," a voice sniped sarcastically from the intercom. "I'd heard you were back to normal, Scarecrow. It's good to know it's not just an idle rumor. Welcome back."

"Thanks," Lee returned in kind as he recognized the speaker. "Now would you kindly tell the Incredible Hulk here to step aside so that I can go see Amanda?"

There was a burst of static as the intercom switched off and, seconds later, the door opened. Billy Melrose nodded to the guard, who stepped aside to allow Dr. Smyth to enter the room.

The Agency's director took an exaggerated drag from his cigarette holder then blew a puff of smoke in Lee's direction. "Why the big hurry, Scarecrow? The fair Amanda is still fast asleep, or so I'm told. Isn't that right, Melrose?"

Billy narrowed his eyes, obviously making a superhuman effort to hold on to his temper. "Yes. I just left her room. She hasn't regained consciousness yet."

Lee frowned at Billy. "She's still out?"

"Yes," Billy replied, "but I'm told it's nothing to be concerned about."

"There, you see?" Dr. Smyth's lips curved into a smile, his cigarette holder clamped tightly between his teeth. "Everything is right as rain. Time to put the family issues on the back burner and make some hay while the sun shines. The boys from Justice are champing at the bit to get their hands on you."

"Well, they can damn well wait until after I've seen my wife," Lee spat through clenched teeth.

Dr. Smyth started to say something, but seemed to think better of it as Billy Melrose and Dr. McJohn both glared at him. "All right," he said, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. "Never let it be said that I don't have a ticker of gold. You have exactly thirty minutes to affect a touching little reunion with Mrs. Scarecrow, then I expect you down on level six pronto to play paddy cake with the Justice Department. Finch has already turned this Agency upside down, and I want that man behind bars where he belongs."

"Don't worry," Lee ground out, his thoughts on the ordeal he and Amanda had both gone through. "I have no intention of letting that weasel slip through our fingers."

"See that he doesn't," Smyth said as he turned to leave. "Thirty minutes, Scarecrow," he tossed back over his shoulder. "I may be a nursery rhyme spouting ass, but I can still fry your sorry backside whenever the spirit moves me. Am I making myself clear as crystal?"

"Perfectly," Lee returned, adding a hastily muttered 'sir' to his reply. He glanced apologetically at Billy as Dr. Smyth slammed the door. "I guess I should have realized Big Brother was watching," he said with a short groan.

"Yes," his boss replied dryly, "you should have. Lucky for you he's so desperate to convict Finch."

"At least that's one thing we can agree on." Lee drew in a deep breath then slowly let it out. "Now . . . how's Amanda, really? And why is she still unconscious after almost three hours?"

Billy's brows drew together as he frowned. "Everyone reacts a little differently to the antidote formula. Remember, when you were initially hit with the gas, you came out of it well before Amanda did."

Somehow Lee didn't find those words didn't particularly comforting. "Okay," he said as he caught the look that passed between the other two men. "What aren't you telling me?"

"It's nothing serious," McJohn responded, a little too quickly for Lee's taste. "The antidote had a side effect we hadn't anticipated, that's all."

"Such as?"

"Ventricular tachycardia upon effusion . . ."

Lee sighed and shook his head. "In English, Doc."

"Sorry. You both developed a slight cardiac arrhythmia shortly after we administered the drug. A rapid, irregular heartbeat," McJohn clarified as Lee shot him another annoyed look. "I'm convinced it was only a temporary reaction to the sudden stress on your system."

Lee felt his stomach drop. "That sounds pretty serious to me."

"No, not at all," Dr. McJohn assured him. "Not in an otherwise healthy heart. Your vitals returned to normal quite quickly, Scarecrow."

"And Amanda's vitals?" he demanded.

McJohn hesitated. "The irregularity lasted a bit longer in her case, but I'm certain there will be no long term effects. Her E.K.G. is perfectly normal now. I fully expect her to regain consciousness at any time, but all we can do at the moment is to wait and see."

Lee grimaced. 'Wait and see' . . . never his strong suit, especially where Amanda was concerned. He remembered when they'd been out in California . . .

The room swirled suddenly as the floor began to move beneath his feet. Stumbling to a chair, Lee sank down and held his head in his hands. It was almost like being forced to stand motionless in the path of an oncoming train; he couldn't seem to stop the overpowering series of images from assaulting his brain. He could even smell the sickly odor of antiseptic in the air. Oh, God . . .

He tried to take a deep breath, to no avail. He never could stand that particular stench. It reminded him of things he'd much rather forget . . .

The high-pitched squeal of the ambulance siren . . . the I.C.U.'s dismal visitor's lounge . . . the harsh glare of the lights in the hospital corridor . . .

He squeezed his eyes shut, but it didn't help. He could see it all, hear it all, as if it was yesterday . . . the intercom blaring out 'Code Blue', the hospital personnel racing a crash cart down the hall, Dotty's voice, heavy with emotion, resounding in his ears . . . 'Lee! It's Amanda!'

Breathing harshly, he wiped the cold, clammy sweat from his forehead. My God . . . they'd had to shock her heart . . . After all the trauma she'd endured from the shooting, he should never have allowed her to risk taking that blasted antidote. It was just too dangerous. What on earth had he been thinking?

Of course, that was the problem, wasn't it? He hadn't been thinking at all. Finch and his damned gas had made sure of that. He really couldn't wait to nail that bastard to the wall.

He felt Billy's hand squeeze his shoulder. "Amanda is perfectly all right," his friend was saying. "Listen to McJohn, Lee."

A voice droned from somewhere over his head. "Some disorientation is to be expected in a case like this. The sensory overload can be hard to handle initially. It might not hurt to have him talk to Dr. Pfaff."

Lee rose from the chair as if in slow motion. "I do not need to talk to Pfaff," he said clearly and distinctly, so that no one would mistake him. "I need to talk to my wife." He sent Billy a pointed look. "Right now."

Billy nodded and took him by the arm. "Just go easy, Scarecrow," his friend advised as he escorted him to a room at the far end of the hall. "She's bound to be a little confused when she first wakes up." Pausing briefly, he patted Lee comfortingly on the back. "And remember, the monitoring equipment is just a precaution. You came out of this in good shape, with your memory fully restored. There's no reason to believe Amanda won't do the same."

Lee managed a nod, then, moistening his dry lips, he slowly entered her room. Amanda lay quietly on the narrow hospital bed, her eyes closed, her dark hair framing a face that looked a little too pale to Lee's eyes. The host of wires peeking out from beneath her hospital gown led back to several different machines, all tracking her condition with a variety of beeps and blips. The only thing missing was that damned oxygen tent, he thought grimly as he struggled once again to banish the memories of California from his head.

He let out a deep breath and looked at the nurse. "Can you give us a minute?" he asked in a low voice.

The woman stood to check one of the machines, then smiled and nodded. "She's fine, Mr. Stetson," the nurse promised. "It shouldn't be too long now – she's been showing signs of regaining consciousness. I'll be right outside if you need anything."

As he heard the door close, Lee sat in the chair the nurse had vacated and reached for Amanda's hand. He held it tightly in his own, his thumb brushing over her engagement ring and wedding band. He'd behaved like such a damn fool, he thought as he brought her fingers to his mouth and tenderly kissed them. At least he'd had sense enough not to walk out on her, but . . . Lee bit down hard on his lower lip. That awful dinner with Elisa Danton . . . how could he have considered going home with another woman, even for a minute?

Lee groaned. Thank God he hadn't let their ridiculous flirtation go any farther than it had. Even allowing Elisa to believe there might be a possibility of anything happening between them seemed like a betrayal of the vows he'd made to his wife. And to make matters even worse, Elisa Danton was one of the biggest gossips in D.C. Once this nightmare was finally over with, he'd have to make sure she understood once and for all exactly where things stood. And make things up to Amanda somehow. He'd put her through so much; Emily, too.

Lee's frown turned to a tender smile as he thought of his daughter. He couldn't wait to see her again. A few days before the gas incident, he'd promised Em he'd take her to the National Aquarium in Baltimore. They'd have to work in a quick trip as soon as this Finch mess was settled.

Amanda stirred and made a soft, moaning sound, then fell silent again. Lee gave her fingers a squeeze, but there was no response. Not quite conscious yet. He continued to watch her, letting his thoughts drift pleasantly back over their anniversary celebration in New York. What an ass he'd been, grumbling through the entire performance of 'Les Mis'. Of course, he hadn't realized the significance of that play at the time.

He found himself smiling as another series of memories washed over him. Here was something he was more than happy to recall . . . that very special weekend in late March of 1987.

Amanda had been going stir-crazy ever since she'd been released from the hospital after her shooting. It hadn't been an easy recovery for her . . . or for him, either, for that matter. They were still newlyweds, and he missed his wife. Without the haven of work, they hadn't been able to spend much time alone together. Even her doctor had eventually agreed that a change of scenery might be beneficial, so when the opportunity for a quick overnight trip to New York presented itself, Lee had jumped at the chance.

He could still see the look of excitement on her face when he presented her with two tickets to the hottest new musical on Broadway. He knew how badly she'd wanted to see 'Les Mis'. They'd intended to catch the play the week prior to their wedding, during its limited preview engagement in D.C., but a few Russian goons on a dark street corner had drastically altered those plans. So instead of enjoying an evening at the Kennedy, they had been staging a coup of their own by breaking into the Russian Embassy. Unlike the unfortunate students in the play, their little revolution came to a happier conclusion when they found the antidote to PD-2, but Lee had promised her a rain check to see the play as soon as their hectic schedules allowed.

Little did they know that one, brief weekend trip was destined to change their lives. After a matinee performance of the play followed by an early dinner at Tavern on the Green, they'd retired to their suite at the Plaza. Lee shook his head at the memory, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. It had been the first time they'd been able to make love since the day after their wedding; small wonder being careful was the last thing on either of their minds. Though Amanda had been on the pill, her accident had disrupted the cycle. About six weeks later, when the pregnancy test came back positive, they'd discovered exactly how much.

"Lee."

His name came out of her mouth as a breathy rasp. He quickly jerked his head up, his concern mediated a little by her smile and the steady pressure of her hand on his. Relief flooded through him as she met his steady gaze; he'd never been so glad to see those deep brown eyes of hers finally open.

"I feel like a truck ran over me," she groaned as she attempted to sit up. "What on earth did Dr. McJohn put in that concoction of his, anyway?"

Lee gently pushed her back down on the bed. "Give it a few minutes," he advised. "I felt the same way when I woke up. Amanda," he added as she nodded her head and closed her eyes, "do you, uh, know what day it is?"

"Yes," she whispered groggily. "It's Monday, February 15, 1993. And this is the Agency clinic."

"And you know who I am?" he asked anxiously.

Amanda smiled as she opened her eyes again. "Of course I do," she replied, linking her pinky finger with his. "You're my husband."

"Yeah," Lee said, "I sure am." Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her lips. "I was so worried when McJohn told me about the side effects of that damned antidote. I thought maybe . . . well, everything's fine now," he said, grinning as her eyes widened. "And I promise - no more of these little holiday adventures of ours. Next Christmas we won't even leave the house, I swear. We're getting much too old for our standard holiday drill."

"Lee . . ." Amanda tilted her head and frowned. "I'm sorry, I . . . what are you talking about?"

Lee felt his stomach begin to churn. No, it couldn't be; he was just fine. "Amanda," he said, affecting a casual smile, "tell me something. How do we usually end up spending Christmas Eve?"

She rubbed her fingers against her temples, the puzzled expression on her face suddenly turning to fear. "The answer's not hanging stockings, is it?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Oh, Lee," she gasped, her breathing growing more agitated as she shook her head lightly. "I . . . I still can't remember!"

TBC


	26. Chapter 26

~~XXV~~

"Hi."

Amanda looked up to find Lee standing in the door of the clinic recovery room. "Hi, yourself," she answered softly. She'd been up for a while, waiting for him, but suddenly now that he was actually there, she felt totally unprepared.

"We're just taking a quick lunch break and I thought I'd see how you were doing." He walked over to the bed and sat down beside her. "I thought maybe you'd . . ."

"Started to remember something?" She shook her head. He'd looked so hopeful, she felt like she was letting him down by not being able to give him better news.

"Amanda, I'm so sorry." He reached out and put a tentative hand on her shoulder.

"It's not your fault," she said, standing up and stepping away. Somehow even such a simple gesture was more than she was prepared to handle at the moment. "The antidote just happened to work on you and not on me," she continued in a hard, brittle tone. "It wasn't anyone's fault."

"Amanda." Lee stood up and walked in front of her, forcing her to meet his gaze. The depths of his hazel eyes were full of emotion - whether sympathy or pity she wasn't sure, but either way it threatened to shatter the modicum of control she'd managed to achieve.

Abruptly changing the subject, she asked, "How are things going with the Justice Department?"

Lee gave her a long look but followed her lead. "Really well," he said levelly. "They've built up an impressive case against Finch, but my testimony is definitely going to be the nail in the coffin."

"That's great." She swallowed a lump in her throat. "I'm glad things are working out." Turning away again, she crossed to the other side of the room. They'd really come full circle. Lee was the one the Agency needed, the one with the training and knowledge. She'd been relegated to the sidelines yet again.

In spite of herself, Amanda half smiled. No wonder she didn't want Lee feeling sorry for her, she was doing a fine job all on her own.

"Ahem." They both looked up at a sudden noise from the doorway. "I hope I'm not interrupting," Dr. McJohn apologized as he entered the room.

"I asked Dr. McJohn to talk to us once you got back," Amanda explained, catching Lee's look of annoyance.

"Why, is there something wrong?" Lee asked anxiously, his glance darting between the doctor and his wife.

McJohn held up a hand as if to ward him off. "Relax, Scarecrow, she's just fine. I think it bodes well for a possible second attempt."

"Wait a minute, who said anything about a second attempt?" Lee asked slowly, a frown crossing his face. "Colonel, I can appreciate that you're trying to help, but I don't think . . ."

"I asked him," Amanda broke in. She gulped down a breath and steeled herself for what was sure to come. She knew Lee wasn't going to make things easy, but she had no intention of backing down.

Lee was looking at her with a surprised expression. "Amanda, you're not serious," he protested. When she didn't answer him, he appealed to the doctor. "Tell me you're not actually considering this."

"The risks would be minimal," McJohn began.

"Minimal," Lee interrupted him scornfully. "What exactly does that mean?"

"After about four or five days, the antidote should be sufficiently out of her bloodstream to make a second trial feasible. We'll have Amanda come in every day for a checkup and blood work." He paused as Lee snorted in contempt. "Trust me, Scarecrow, no one is going to rush into anything. Besides, we've got the results from monitoring the both of you this morning, so every day we wait we can continue to refine the antidote. It just might make a difference."

Lee hardly even glanced at the doctor, looking instead across the room at Amanda. Unable to face the accusation in his eyes, she turned and looked out the window into the busy hallway. There seemed to be people everywhere - Agency personnel and visitors, doctors and other medical staff, all of them hurrying along, caught up in the business of their lives. Here she stood, stuck in this disconcerting limbo – unable to remember her past, yet needing it to find her way forward. It had seemed like a much simpler task the day before, before Lee had regained his memory and left her behind.

Dr. McJohn broke the heavy silence. "Amanda, as I told you earlier, you don't need to make a final decision today. I'll see you tomorrow morning for your checkup." He nodded a brief goodbye to both of them then left them alone again.

"Amanda, I can't believe you are even considering this," Lee said forcefully before the door was even closed. "Did McJohn explain what happened this morning, about the abnormal heart rhythm?"

"Yes, he did." She turned back to face him. "He also told me that now that they're aware of that side effect, they'll monitor me more closely. He doesn't anticipate it causing a major problem."

"How very, very comforting." Lee paced restlessly across the room. "You do realize that even if your health isn't endangered, there's no guarantee you'll get your memory back. What if you end up forgetting even more than you already have?"

"Dr. McJohn said that isn't very likely. Besides, then I'll just have to learn about my life all over again. They say the third time's a charm," she said in an artificially light tone.

She might have known Lee was in no mood for jokes. "Amanda, this isn't funny."

"Lee, trust me, it's going to be okay," she said, trying to soothe him. Why couldn't he see how important this was to her? "I came through this morning just fine."

"Except for the fact that you can't remember the last nine years of your life," he threw at her sarcastically.

"Well, if I did remember them, we wouldn't be having this argument, now, would we," she shot back, beginning to lose her patience with him. She could see the concern in his eyes, but brushed it aside. "Lee, I really want to try this again. I know you're worried but . . ."

"Of course I'm worried. Amanda, we were damned lucky we both came through the first attempt as well as we did. I don't think we need to tempt fate any more."

"Oh, you don't, do you? That's pretty convenient for you, considering that you got **your** memory back." She softened her tone when she saw her words had hit their mark. "Look," she tried again. "I can remember waking up beside you this morning. And yesterday and the day before. And that's it. There are a couple of thousand other mornings we spent together that I have no memory of at all. Not to mention our family. Birthdays and Christmases and Emily being born and the boys going out on their first dates and graduations and . . ." She stopped and took a deep breath. "Lee, I know I'm being selfish, but I can't help it. I want it all back."

"Amanda, I just don't think this is a good idea." He glanced at his watch and frowned. "I've got to get back to my meeting." He turned and headed for the door.

"So, that's it, is it?" she called after him. "You don't think it's a good idea, so it's the end of the discussion?"

He hesitated. "I'm only thinking about what's best, that's all."

"Is that what our marriage was like? You making all the decisions under the guise of what's best?"

"No, of course not," he began, but she cut him off.

"You didn't by any chance make me say 'obey' in our wedding vows, did you?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"A-man-da," he began, drawing out her name. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Oh, **I'm** the one who's being ridiculous. All I want is another chance to get my life back. Dr. McJohn agrees that it would be an acceptable risk . . ."

"Acceptable to you, maybe," he shot back. "Not to me. And if you'd listen to reason for a minute . . ."

"I don't want hear it," she said sharply. "You know, if this is any indication of the way things were between us, then maybe I'm better off not remembering." She stood there glaring at him. "You'd better go; they're waiting for you. Just like you seem to think I'm supposed to spend all my time doing," she said bitterly.

"This discussion isn't over," Lee threw over his shoulder as he slammed the door.

"That's what you think," Amanda said quietly to the empty room.

~ ~ SMK ~ ~

Lee pulled the BMW into the driveway, thankful that, for the moment, there was no sign of Dotty's car. When he'd called her from the Agency to tell her what had happened with the antidote, his mother-in-law had volunteered to collect Emily from preschool. Lee was grateful; as anxious as he was to see his daughter, he wanted at least one more chance to talk some sense into Amanda before Emily claimed their attention.

Unfortunately, his wife seemed to have a different scenario in mind. He barely had time to turn off the engine before she executed a quick evasive maneuver and escaped into the house. Lee ran a hand through his hair and let out a deep breath. Amanda had barely said two words in the car – why had he thought it would be any different once they were home?

He found her sitting at the kitchen table, staring out into the backyard. "Emily keeps talking about wanting to go up in Phillip and Jamie's tree house when the weather gets warmer," she said, her voice tightly controlled. "You'd better check it out to make sure it's secure."

"I already did. The boys and I replaced all the loose boards over Labor Day weekend . . ." He bit his lip to stop from adding, 'remember?'

"Oh," she replied flatly. "That's good to know."

Lee took a step towards her. "Amanda . . ."

"No," she interrupted, hugging her arms around herself. "Please don't."

"We have to talk about this."

"Why?" She turned to look at him. "We said everything there was to say on the subject back in the Agency clinic."

"The mechanics, Amanda. We discussed the mechanics. We barely touched on what this might mean for us. I know how you're feeling, but . . ."

"I'm feeling thirsty," she said, pushing out of her chair. "I think I'll make some tea."

Turning to the sink, his wife methodically filled the tea kettle with water and placed it on the stove. Lee folded his arms across his chest as he watched her; no one was as stubborn as Amanda when she had her mind set on something. After adjusting the flame on the burner with deliberate slowness, she leaned back against the counter and glared at the pot, as if challenging it to boil. He wanted to take her into his arms and assure her everything would be okay, but she steadfastly refused to even so much as glance in his direction. She obviously had no intention of reopening the discussion about what had happened – or, rather, what had failed to happen – this morning at the clinic.

All of a sudden Lee felt achingly tired. Closing his eyes, he started to sit on the edge of the kitchen table, but automatically stopped himself. Amanda was always telling him that tables were meant for eating on, not sitting on. He remembered the lively discussion they'd had on that very subject shortly after moving in together. She'd been none too pleased that Phillip and Jamie had picked up the habit from him. Of course, at the time, he hadn't really wanted to argue with her; her pregnancy tended to blow inconsequential things like sitting on a table all out of proportion. Lee bit his lip. Right about now, a hormonally induced lecture might not be so bad - as long as his Amanda was back to give it.

Of course, she was still his Amanda, the same woman he'd come to care so deeply for all those years ago, the same woman who had made passionate love with him only yesterday. The repercussions from taking the antidote had just caused this sudden awkwardness between them, and neither one of them seemed to know how to move past it. It was as if a carefully balanced scale had been unexpectedly tipped in one direction, destroying the stability they'd finally regained in their marriage. The weight of his restored memory suddenly felt like more of a burden than a blessing.

But only for a moment. Emily burst through the back door, bringing blessed equilibrium in with her. "Mommy, Daddy," she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. "You're home!"

"Hi, Em," Amanda said quickly. "How was preschool?"

"It was the best day," Emily said breathlessly. "We learned a new dance . . . wanna see?" She immediately began to hum as she demonstrated the steps, complete with arm movements.

"That's wonderful," Amanda praised, catching Lee's eye over their daughter's head.

Lee let out a relieved sigh as he saw her face break into a smile. Everything was going to be okay; they just needed a little time to let the pendulum swing back again.

Emily grinned proudly at her mother as she finished her dance with a flourish. "Katy Thompson couldn't even do it," she announced gleefully. "She kept tripping."

"Maybe you'll have to help her out then," Amanda suggested as she stooped and held out her arms.

"Okay," Emily replied with a put-upon sigh, "I can try."

Lee watched his daughter's dark hair mingle with Amanda's as they hugged. They made quite a picture, he thought with an indulgent smile, just like that day he'd brought them both home from the hospital. A kaleidoscope of other images flipped through his mind, all the insignificant, day-to-day happenings he'd taken for granted over the years. Not to mention those monumental moments . . . a first word, a first step, a first day at school. It was almost too much - the remembering.

Moving over to his daughter, he squatted down to Emily's eye level. "Hey, can Daddy get a welcome home hug, too?"

Emily nodded solemnly and transferred her arms from Amanda's neck to his. "I've missed you, munchkin," he said, struggling to keep his voice even as he gave her a big bear-hug.

"So you came home early, too?" she asked, obviously delighted.

"You bet I did," he said, pulling back to tap the end of her nose with her finger.

She immediately wrinkled her nose in response and rubbed the tip with two chubby fingers. Lee smiled as he, too, did the same, reenacting the special bunny ritual they'd started when Emily was only a toddler. As his daughter laughed with pleasure, he swung her up into his arms.

"Sorry we're so late," Dotty apologized as she entered the kitchen in a flutter. "Emily left her backpack at school, and we had to go back for it, then the traffic was a nightmare. Honestly, I don't know how anybody ever gets where they're going in this town."

"I think they drive over forty miles an hour," Lee said with a teasing grin.

Dotty's eyes softened for a moment, then she picked up the running joke between them. "Very funny, Mr. Stetson. I'll have you know that I am an excellent driver." She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around both him and Emily. "It's so good to have you back," she whispered in a low voice.

"Not as good as it feels to be back," he murmured in return, giving his mother-in-law a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for . . . well, for everything."

"Nonsense," she replied, "I was more than happy to . . ." Her sentence dissolved into a look of relief and joy.

"Gramma," Emily chirped from her father's arms, "your eyes are leaking."

"Yes, I guess they are." She reached into her pocket for a tissue. "Oh, Amanda," Dotty began, wiping her eyes. "I'm so sorry about . . ."

"It's okay, Mother."

Lee saw Amanda glance at Emily, then give Dotty a warning look and he quickly set his daughter back on the ground where she'd be less likely to notice the expressions on the adult faces. Emily had already been through so much over the past few months; he had no intention of letting this new tension affect her.

Dotty obviously was of the same mind. "Well now, who would like a piece of cake?" she asked, indicating the large container on the counter. "I made it this morning to cele . . . well, I made it this morning," she amended quickly.

"I do, I do," Emily cried, running over to the counter. She looked back at her mother, who nodded her approval.

"And it looks like Mommy's making tea, too." Dotty's voice softened and her eyes filled with concern as she turned them on Amanda. "Darling, can I get you some?"

"No, I . . ." Amanda made a quick grab for the counter as she began to sway slightly on her feet. Lee moved immediately to her side, but she evaded his arms and took a few steps towards the hall. "I think I'll lie down for a bit," she said, her eyes on the floor. "I've got a really bad headache."

"I could rub it," Emily offered, her hazel eyes growing large as she looked up at her mother.

"Thank you, Em," Amanda said, leaning down to give her a brief kiss, "but I just need to take a little nap, that's all. You stay and have some cake with Daddy."

"That's right," Lee put in quickly as he noticed the telltale quiver of Emily's bottom lip that always signaled tears. "And you can fix my tea for me."

"Just like Aunt Emily taught me?" she asked, her face brightening. "The proper way?"

"The proper way," he assured her with a big grin. He looked towards Amanda, to ask her to reconsider and have some tea with them, but she'd already disappeared up the stairs.

Dotty raised an eyebrow as she caught his eye and Lee nodded. He could readily imagine what Amanda was feeling. She must be as upset as he had been on that first night home from the hospital, staring into the faces of a family he didn't remember.

He jerked his head in Emily's direction then quickly headed after his wife. "Come on, Em, let's find the special tea leaves," he heard Dotty say as he took the stairs two at a time.

He paused outside the door to their room, uncertain about whether or not to knock, but he made a quick decision and stepped inside. This was their bedroom, their home, their life, and Lee had no intention of letting things slip back to where they had been even a few short weeks ago.

"Amanda," he said as he closed the door softly behind him. "I wanted to make sure that you were okay."

"I'm just fine," she started to say, then suddenly froze and shook her head. "I guess I'm not really fine at all, am I? I can't remember. Oh, Lee . . . " She turned to him with tear-filled eyes. "I'm sorry about the way I acted downstairs, it's just that I feel like the rug has been pulled out from under us all over again. When I saw how you were with Emily and Mother, I just . . . I couldn't . . ."

He quickly closed the space between them and took her into his arms, his lips brushing gently through her hair. "It'll be okay," he whispered over and over as he stroked her back.

She pressed against him. "I wish I could believe that," she murmured, burying her head in his shoulders.

"You can," he said, his voice rough with emotion, "no matter what happens."

He held her fast against him. He'd make it okay, he vowed as her heartfelt sigh echoed in his ears. He was certain of one thing – memory or no memory, he couldn't lose her.

TBC


	27. Chapter 27

~~XXVI~~

"Amanda, how's the security review going? Amanda? Amanda?"

She looked up from her desk, startled by the staccato sound of knocking on the Q-Section door.

"I'm sorry, Francine," she said apologetically. "I guess my mind was somewhere else."

"I wonder why that is." Francine quirked an eyebrow at her as she entered the room. "Mind if I grab a cup?" she asked, crossing over to the coffee urn. "You two have much better taste than whatshisname who orders the swill they brew downstairs."

"Sure, help yourself." Amanda watched as Francine filled one of mugs sitting out on the tray, then added sweetener and milk. The oversized pottery cups were such a pretty blue shade. She wondered briefly if they'd been a gift from Lee at some point or if she and her mother had bought them at some craft fair. Sighing, she shook her head. Lately the smallest thing could set her off, wondering about past events she had no way of recalling.

"Amanda, are you feeling all right?" Francine walked over and perched on a corner of Amanda's desk.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again. "This hasn't been my best day."

Francine nodded sympathetically. "That's a bit of an understatement. With the start to the week you've had, I'm surprised you didn't take a few days off."

"Believe me, in some ways it's a lot easier being at work." Amanda leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes briefly as she rubbed the back of her neck.

Francine sipped at her coffee. "French roast. I knew you wouldn't let me down." She looked over at Lee's desk. "I take it you and Lee haven't sorted things out."

Amanda shook her head. "I'm not about to change my mind on this, but I don't want to start another fight with him. His testimony begins tomorrow and he needs to focus on that."

"Well, for what it's worth, I think you're making the right decision. And I've got my fingers crossed for you that it's going to work this time."

"Thanks. You've been really great these past few weeks." Amanda smiled up at her friend. "You know, I must be adjusting, it doesn't even take me by surprise anymore that you're nice to me."

"Hey, that's our little secret. I can still make the new recruits in my department jump when I walk by." Francine laughed, running a perfectly manicured nail over the textured glaze of the coffee mug. "Besides, I'm just looking out for myself, too. I heard a rumor that Dr. Smyth is going to have me give Lee a hand while you go for your re-certification. I've got enough to do running International Affairs, without helping out with the Q-Section."

Amanda frowned. "What do you mean, my 're-certification?'"

"I thought you knew. If you don't get your memory back, Dr. Smyth is going to make you go back and retrain." Francine looked at her sympathetically. "If that does happen, I'll make sure you get credit for all the work you've done with me on this reception."

Amanda numbly nodded her head. Re-certification. Re-training. She'd really be right back where she started, as a civilian auxiliary. How long would this take? Would her position in the Q-Section be held open for her? Did she even want to go back and start all over again?

Her head throbbed with all the unanswered questions. Reaching up, she rubbed her temples wearily. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

"Francine, can I get back to you with the security updates for the secondary staff?" she asked. "I should have them ready by noon tomorrow. I'm just a bit tired . . ."

"Sure." Francine placed her empty mug on Lee's desk. Crossing the room, she paused for a moment before heading out the door. "Amanda, it's going to be okay. One way or the other."

"Thanks."

She waited until Francine had left, then moved across the room to the sofa. Maybe if she just lay down for a few minutes, her headache would go away.

The past two days had been so unsettling. Just when she and Lee had found their way back to each other, everything had shifted again. In some ways, he now felt further away from her than ever. At least up to this point they'd been equals, both struggling to mesh the knowledge of their past lives together with their present feelings.

She'd never regretted the loss of her memories as much as the moment when she'd seen Lee and Emily interacting together. They had such a closeness, a sense of belonging together, it filled her with a sadness and longing that was so overpowering it made her heart ache.

And when Lee looked at her now, she couldn't help but wonder if he was seeing who she really was or was searching for the woman she'd been. What would the consequences be if she never got that woman back?

She closed her eyes, trying to shut it all out, selfishly wishing for a moment that the antidote hadn't worked on Lee either. If only she could just get her mind to slow down for a minute, to stop thinking about what might have been, what they were left with now, and what might never be regained . . .

"Amanda, are you okay?"

She opened her eyes to see the object of her contemplations standing only a few feet away.

"Lee. I must have dozed off." She blinked and sat up a bit unsteadily. "What time is it?"

"Almost five." He sat down and took her hand in his. "You feeling okay?"

"I'm fine." Restlessly she got up and paced across to her desk. "Actually, that's not true." She idly picked up the photograph of herself and Lee, staring down into the faces of two people who hadn't realized how fortunate they'd been.

Turning to face Lee again, she continued in a harsh tone, her words tumbling over each other in her haste to rid herself of them. "I hate this. That you know everything about us and I don't. That my boys are all grown up and I can't remember how they got that way. That the first five years of my daughter's life are a complete mystery to me. And just this afternoon I find out that Dr. Smyth wants me to retrain for a job that I've been doing for years. Except, of course, I don't remember doing that job, so maybe he's actually being reasonable and I'm the one who's irrational about the whole situation." She paused for a breath, almost missing Lee's softly spoken words.

"Damn, I thought Billy had cut him off."

She set the picture frame back down with a thump. "You knew about this?" she asked incredulously. "You knew what he was planning and didn't say anything to me about it?"

"Amanda, this was before they even had a line on the antidote." Lee stood up and moved towards her. "It was only a vague possibility."

She moved a step away, avoiding his outstretched arms. "Apparently not so vague that you didn't know about it." Turning away from him in frustration, she gave her anger free reign. "You're doing it again – making decisions for the both of us. You decide what I should and shouldn't know. You decide that it's not safe for me to try the antidote again."

"Amanda, it's just that I love you," Lee protested. "It's only natural that I want to protect you."

"Lee, I'm not five years old. You have to let me live my own life."

"It's not that easy. You're my wife. What you do affects me, too." Lee leaned against the edge of his desk, watching her with troubled eyes.

She sank back down on the couch, letting her head drop into her hands. "If this marriage is going to work," she said in a low voice, "we have to be equals. You can't protect me from everything. What am I supposed to do, hide up here all day while you go out and face the cold, cruel world for the two of us? I thought we were partners."

"We are. But this isn't that simple."

"What if the situation was reversed?" She looked up at him, meeting and matching the intensity of his gaze. "What if there was something you wanted incredibly badly and the only way was for you to take a risk like this. What would you do?"

Lee turned away from her and walked across to the window. Staring down at the street, he said in a much softer tone, "You really don't fight fair."

"What are you talking about?"

"Not long before we got engaged, I uncovered a file about my parents, some rumors that they'd been double agents. I needed to tap into some of my childhood memories and the only way was to take a psychotropic drug." He gave a bitter snort of laughter. "The situation was a little different, I admit. I didn't have medical supervision or even permission to try the drug."

"What did I do?" Amanda stood up and walked over to him. "I can't imagine that I approved of this idea at all."

Lee shook his head. "You didn't. You argued with me all the way to the Agency Dispensary. Where you then proceeded to help me steal a vial of promazepam. And you were the one who administered the dosage. I couldn't have asked for a more supportive partner." He turned to her with a sad look on his face. "I guess it's time I returned the favor."

She leaned against him. "Lee, I really want to do this. I know you're concerned but . . ."

"I'm more than concerned. Amanda, you're my wife." He slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. "We have a family together. I'm petrified at the thought of losing you."

"Dr. McJohn said he thinks I should wait at least four or five days after the first attempt. How about I wait a whole week?" She could see his expression soften slightly. "That way the boys can come home on Friday and we'll have a real family weekend together."

He sighed and looked away. "I still don't like it."

"I know," she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

"And if it was entirely my choice, there's no way you'd get to do this." He took a step back and looked her in the eyes. "But you're right, it's not something I get to decide for you."

"Thank you." She looked up at him and smiled. "I really hate fighting with you, you know."

"Me too." He bent his head and gave her a quick kiss. "So now that we've got that decided, how about we make a pact. You go ahead and make the arrangements with Dr. McJohn, but for the next few days we just concentrate on being us. On spending time with our family. No more arguments."

"Deal." She reached out and touched him gently on the arm. "I'm sorry about what I said the other day about our marriage. I know you didn't just expect me to let you make all the decisions."

"Hey, I was being pretty heavy handed about the whole thing. You had every right to be angry with me." He leaned over and pressed his lips to her forehead.

She smiled up at him. "Our marriage, it was really good, wasn't it?"

He looked deep into her eyes. "It still is."

TBC


	28. Chapter 28

~~XXVII~~

Amanda waved her fork temptingly under Lee's nose. "Bringing dessert up here was a great idea. Sure you won't change your mind and have some?"

"As soon as I'm finished with this," he muttered, still focused on the papers spread out across his lap. "I'm not sure the Justice Department would approve of crumbs on their report."

"Hey, you're the one who dragged out that file, not me."

"I know. I'm sorry to bring work to bed, but I didn't get a chance to read over Ken Thompson's deposition before I left the office."

A small frown appeared between Amanda's eyes. "Is he being allowed to turn state's evidence after all?"

"No, that won't be an option for him, now that my testimony has given the boys at Justice another alternative. He's probably going to do some hard time, along with that scumbag who tried to abduct you."

Amanda sighed. "I can't help but feel a little sorry for Ken. His record with the CIA was exemplary until he got in over his head with those loan sharks."

Lee shook his head. His wife really was incredible – she could still feel compassion towards a fellow agent who had sold them both out. He wished he could follow her example, but the image of that van smashed into a tree was too fresh in his mind. If anything had happened to her . . . well, he was just grateful that Thompson's testimony hadn't been necessary. The man deserved whatever he was going to get. Still, a lot was riding on his day in court. "I just hope I'm up to speed for my testimony tomorrow," he said aloud, a hint of worry in his tone.

Amanda rubbed his shoulder. "If the number of hours you've spent with Justice is any indicator, I'm sure you'll be more than prepared."

"I hope so, but . . ." He was about to say, 'you know how these things go,' but managed to stop himself. Now that the heated discussions of the past few days had finally cooled down, he had no intention of reopening that particular subject. His plans for the rest of the evening definitely did not include sparring of a verbal nature.

Setting his worries aside for the moment, he collected the scattered papers and dropped the file on the floor beside the bed. "That's finished," he stated emphatically, "and I'm all yours. Now, you were saying something about cake?"

Amanda popped the last bite into her mouth. "Sorry, all gone," she teased as she set the empty plate and silverware on the nightstand. "Guess you missed out, huh?"

There was an unspoken challenge in her grin. In one quick move, Lee rolled over and pinned her to the mattress, his eyes flashing ominously. "We'll just have to see about that, Mrs. Stetson. Since you seem to have taken great pleasure in snarfing down the last piece of Dotty's chocolate cake, what else do you have to offer in the way of dessert, hmm?"

Amanda tilted her head and let out a plaintive little sigh. "I guess I could run down to the kitchen and whip up a batch of brownies. Unless . . ." She moistened her lips and ran her finger lightly beneath the rim of his t-shirt. "Unless you can suggest something a little more satisfying," she finished.

His breathing quickened at the roughened timbre of her voice. "Oh, I think that could be arranged. No pots and pans to clean up, either."

"Now there's a plus," she said as their mingled laughter dissolved into silent grins. They stayed that way for a few moments, his upper body resting against hers, just looking at each other. Amanda's smile warmed her entire face, as if she was lit up from the inside by a sweetly sensuous flame.

"I love it when you smile." Her voice sounded deep and throaty as she echoed his thoughts. "It always makes me want to do this."

Holding his gaze, she circled her fingers in the hollows of his dimples, then, ever so slowly, raised her head to kiss him. It was soft at first, lips brushing lips in the barest whisper of a touch, but slowly, steadily, she increased the pressure, building to a breath-taking crescendo as her mouth opened and their tongues met, seeking, probing, wanting.

"Thank you for tonight," she said as she brushed a strand of hair off his forehead. "For dinner and, well, for everything."

Lee pretended to look affronted. "So it's my Capollini Alfredo you wanted all along. I should have known."

"Lee, I'm trying to be serious here." Her voice lowered to a hushed stillness. "Thank you for making tonight so easy. For not bringing up . . ."

His lips descended on hers, chiding her into silence with a gentle kiss. "We made a pact this afternoon, remember? No more talk about you-know-what."

She bit her lip and nodded. "You're absolutely right. Thanks for keeping me honest."

"That's what partners are for. Or so I've been told by one of the best."

"One of the best, huh?" She rolled onto her side and looked curiously at Lee. "Tell me about our partnership," she said, propping herself up on her elbow.

He stretched out beside her and mirrored her posture. "What do you want to know?"

"How it all happened, I guess. The last I remember, you were a lone wolf and proud of it. Tell the truth – did my tenacious persistence finally wear you down?"

Lee grinned. "Well, you were pretty stubborn, that's for sure. But I eventually learned to tolerate it."

As Amanda tried to give him a light-hearted shove, he grabbed her hand and planted a kiss first on her palm, then on each finger. A warm feeling came over him as his lips touched the smooth metal of her rings. It was good to have them back where they belonged; they'd already spent way too much time in a drawer for one lifetime.

"Lee," she prodded, reclaiming her hand. "Come on, I really want to know."

He started to tell her, but suddenly didn't know how. Names, cases, success ratios - the cold data documented by the reams of Agency files seemed inadequate to describe the remarkable synergy they'd achieved in the field. "It's hard to put into words," he said at last. "It was more than just working well together, though we obviously did. Maybe it was chemistry."

"Chemistry?" She trailed her finger lightly over his bicep.

"Well, not that kind," he said with a teasing grin. "Although, eventually, that was probably part of it. Something happened when we worked together . . . this unspoken energy that's hard to explain. Kind of like a puzzle, I guess."

She frowned lightly. "I don't understand."

"It's like putting together a jigsaw puzzle," he explained, "the kind it takes forever to finish. You can make tiny, little pictures out of the pieces while you're working on it and they can be nice, even pleasant to look at. But finally fit them all together and you create something really special. Extraordinary, even."

Amanda raised an eyebrow. "Wow, Lee . . . that doesn't sound like . . . I mean, well, I'm just surprised to hear you . . ."

"It doesn't sound like me, because I'm not the one who said it. That's what you told me once when I asked the same question."

She rolled her eyes. "That's not exactly fair, you know, throwing words I don't remember back into my face. Kind of sneaky, even."

"What do you expect?" he teased. "I'm a spy."

"A spy, huh? And here I thought you didn't like that word."

"I've been known to use it on occasion," he said as he leaned forward to kiss the tip of her nose. "But only with my partner." He grew somber for moment then added thoughtfully, "You know, after Eric died, I really never believed I'd be able to work with another partner, but . . . well, maybe your 'tenacious persistence' did pay off after all. Whatever it was, it made me a better agent. At first, by making me cautious because I had to look out for you, then later . . . well, later I came to really rely on those quirky instincts of yours. They've certainly saved my butt often enough."

Her face broke into a grin. "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me. Professionally speaking, that is." Cupping his cheek, she brushed her thumb across his chin. "I think I like the new, improved Lee Stetson."

"Well, the old one certainly behaved like a first class jerk." Rolling away from her onto his back, he stared up at the ceiling. "Amanda, I . . . I'm so sorry for everything I put you through, you know, when . . ."

"Shush," she said, leaning over and sliding her finger across his lips. "I know this situation hasn't been a picnic for you, either."

"But at least I got my memory back." Lee frowned. "What did you get?"

Amanda cuddled beside him and rested her head on his shoulder. "I got my husband back. For the moment, it's enough."

Lee nodded. For the moment . . . he wished he could convince her that the moments they had, right here, right now, were enough. He didn't want to let her go, didn't want her to risk losing even more. And yet . . .

The sweet tickle of her breath on his neck stopped his thoughts. A promise was a promise - for tonight, anyway. As she slipped her hand beneath his t-shirt and rubbed his chest, he closed his eyes and concentrated on her touch. Her fingers felt so warm against his skin, the sensation lingering even after she pulled her hand away. He started to turn towards her, to take her into his arms, to tell her . . .

"Mommy, Mommy." The soft words, spoken in sleepy tones, caused them both to freeze.

"What the matter, sweetheart?" he heard Amanda ask as she moved away from him and sat up. "Are you okay?"

Emily stood by the side of the bed, one small hand rubbing her eye and the other clutching the fabric of her pajama shirt. "I had a bad dream," she said, fear clearly evident in her shaky little voice. "I can't find Daddy."

As Amanda stroked the child's soft curls, Lee straightened up. "I'm right here, Em."

"Daddy!" Her eyes lit up as she saw his face. "You aren't sleeping in Jamie's bed!"

"Nah," he said, leaning over Amanda to extend a hand to his daughter. "Jamie's bed is just too small."

Emily grasped his fingers and climbed onto the bed, crawling over to snuggle between her parents. "My bed is too big," she said, shaking her head solemnly as she tucked herself beneath the quilt.

Lee pursed his lips and shot Amanda a warning look. He knew Emily's 'Three Bears' routine by heart. The next words out of her mouth would be . . .

"But this bed is just right." She squeezed her eyes tightly closed and pulled the covers up around her chin, pretending to be sound asleep.

Lee looked at Amanda and winked. "Well, I guess that settles it," he said with a dramatic sigh. "Emily isn't old enough to go to brunch on Sunday."

"Yes," Amanda agreed, trying not to laugh as she picked up where he left off. "What a shame. And Phillip and Jamie are coming home, too. I guess we'll just have to get a sitter."

Emily's eyes popped open. "I can go to 'bunch'. I can stay up real late, too."

Amanda eyed Lee, apparently hesitating. "I don't know. I mean, if you aren't old enough to sleep in your own bed . . ."

"I am, I am," Emily protested, sitting up on her knees and lifting her arms. "Carry me there, Daddy."

Lee smiled as he gathered her up in his arms. "Be right back," he told Amanda as he tossed Emily over his shoulder and headed for the door. As the child squealed with delight, he added, "Keep my spot warm."

"I'll do my best," she said with her most provocative smile.

"Daddy." Emily whispered softly into his ear as he carried her down the hall, as if she had a great secret to share. "What's 'bunch'?"

"That's brunch," he corrected. "It's a combination of breakfast and lunch, all in one."

Emily twisted the neck of his t-shirt in her fingers as she considered this. "Mommy says breakfast and lunch shouldn't be all mixed together. Will there be good things to eat?"

"Lots of good things," he assured her as he tossed her lightly in the air then popped her under the covers. "This is a very special breakfast and lunch. Even Mommy would approve."

Emily tilted her head as he pulled the covers up around her. "Will it be as good as Mommy's blueberry pancakes?"

"Well, nothing's as good as Mommy's blueberry pancakes, but they'll have some stuff you like, I promise." He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. "Now sleep tight, munchkin. I'll see you in the morning."

He'd barely taken a step into the hall when her small voice called him back. "Daddy."

"Yes, Em?" he asked, straining to keep from showing his impatience. "What is it?"

"I can't sleep."

Lee groaned, trying not to think of Amanda waiting for him just down the hall. "You haven't even tried to sleep. Just close your eyes."

He started to leave again, but his daughter let out a deep sigh. "Read me my book."

"And exactly what book would that be, Miss Emily?" he demanded sternly, quirking an eyebrow.

She smiled, showing off a pair of irresistible dimples. "My Wind in the Willows one."

"Oh, no you don't," he laughed. "That's way too long."

"But Aunt Emily sent it to me for my birthday."

"Then we'll be sure to bring it with us when we go to visit her next time." Yes, Lady Farnsworth should definitely be allowed to share in the joy of reading that book to her goddaughter.

"Then read me my bunny story," Emily requested, a pleading look creeping into her big hazel eyes as he tried one more time to escape into the hall. "It's way shorter."

Lee struggled to hide the grin that Emily would immediately interpret as capitulation. "If memory serves me, you've already had one story tonight," he reminded her, walking over to tuck her pink comforter snugly around her again. "Now, if you don't go to sleep right this minute, you won't have enough energy to wear your brothers out when they arrive for the weekend."

"'Kay," she murmured, her eyelids drooping as fatigue caught up with her at last. Lee smiled; she made such a pretty picture, lying in the middle of her canopied bed, her teddy bear clutched tightly in her arms. The new toy might be a novelty at the moment, but he knew that it would soon be replaced by her old, lop-eared rabbit, the one he'd given her when she was just a baby. Emily was nothing if not loyal. Thank God it seemed to be a trait she came by naturally, he thought, grateful once again that his temporary aberration hadn't caused him to turn his back on his family.

"Night, Em," he whispered as he bent over her. She didn't answer, her breathing already low and even. He pressed a kiss carefully to her forehead so as not to wake her, then switched out the night lamp and headed down the hall.

He paused outside their bedroom door to listen for Emily one more time, but there wasn't a sound from her room. Satisfied that she was wholly and completely asleep, Lee turned at last towards his wife.

She was sitting on the edge of their bed, arms raised gracefully behind her neck as she unfastened her necklace. An ordinary thing, really; yet there was a fluidity to her simple movements that was highly erotic, and he stood, mesmerized, as she let the chain slip from her fingers onto the nightstand.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered from the doorway.

"Lee," she said, clearly startled by his presence. "What are you doing standing there?"

"Watching you," he replied, his words little more than a gravelly rasp from deep inside his throat.

A rush of color flushed her cheeks as she self-consciously tucked her hair behind her ears. The tennis bracelet on her wrist sparkled under the glow of the bedside lamp, each tiny facet a bright reflection of the light. He moved to the bed and sat down beside her.

"I gave you that bracelet," he told her, his hands fingering the strand. "For Christmas."

She smiled softly. "I know. Francine told me."

"She told you? When?"

"A long time ago," she said, a flash of guilt crossing her face. "That first day we went back to work after the . . . incident."

A sudden thought occurred to him. "But the night we had our dinner at the Botanic Garden . . . when I asked you why you always wore it, you only said someone special gave it to you."

"Well, it was true, wasn't it?" she said with a quick laugh. She placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned in to kiss him. "It really is beautiful. Thank you."

Lee felt something tug at his heart. She'd known all along that he'd been the one who'd given it to her, yet still she'd worn it, even when she wouldn't wear his ring. Even when he couldn't remember . . .

"Here," he whispered throatily as he took her small wrist in his hands. "Let me take it off."

She stopped him with a look. "No. I want to wear it to bed."

"On Christmas night . . ." He smiled, sweet memories washing over him.

"What?" she asked when his words trailed off.

"On Christmas night, that's all you wore to bed," he informed her, his smile widening. "Dotty had made this special eggnog and, well, one thing led to another . . ."

Her tongue snaked out to trace the soft fullness of her lips. "Tell me about it," she demanded in low, breathy tones.

He slowly shook his head. "I'll show you," he whispered, his voice deep and gravelly as he turned out the light.

TBC


	29. Chapter 29

~~XXVIII~~

"Keep your voice down, okay."

"I don't believe you. Did you honestly think I wouldn't argue with you if you brought me to a public place?"

"Ahem." Lee shot a quick look in the direction of the bickering couple at the next table then slipped onto the chair beside Amanda. "You know, someone once told me that it's not polite to eavesdrop on other people's private conversations," he chided her with a dimpled grin.

"Must be a hazard of the profession," Amanda said, her guilty look dissolving into a smile. "Or a bad habit I picked up from you." Glancing over his plate, she shook her head. "Don't tell me you're actually eating a decent breakfast."

"Well, I need something to replenish me after last night." He took a bite of scrambled eggs. "I will admit, though, that breakfast is much more fun when it's just the two of us."

Amanda smiled, thinking back to the last morning of their weekend in New York. She'd had room service deliver breakfast to their room, but Lee had claimed he only wanted coffee. Her attempts to coax him into eating something more substantial had quickly deteriorated into a spirited wrestling match. "Next time I'll be more prepared," she said.

"I'm looking forward to it." Lee leaned in and touched his lips to hers in a gentle kiss.

"Hey, you guys, break it up." Jamie raised his eyebrows as he took a seat on the opposite side of the table. "There are families eating here, you know." His grin was in direct contrast to his words, though. Amanda smiled back at her youngest son. She knew how glad Phillip and Jamie both were that she and Lee had worked things out, even if they didn't come right out and say it.

"Mommy, look!" Emily slowly approached the table, carefully carrying her plate.

"That doesn't look much like breakfast," Lee said, reaching out and setting her plate down on the table.

"Sure it is, Daddy." She hopped up on the chair next to him. "I got waffles."

"You mean there's a waffle buried underneath that mountain of whipped cream?" He reached out, scooped up a dollop with the tip of his finger and dotted the tip of his daughter's nose.

"Daddy!" she squealed, quickly wiping at her nose.

"Use your napkin, sweetheart." Amanda reached over to help. "Honestly," she said to Lee, "I don't know which one of you is worse about playing with their food."

"Oh, that would be me," Lee murmured in her ear. "And I can be very inventive."

Amanda could feel the color rise in her cheeks. "Behave yourself," she said, straightening up.

"Now that would be a first." Jamie laughed as he attacked his own heaping plate. "Phillip's gonna fall behind," he said around a mouthful of homefries. "I told him I could eat more than him."

"That's what you think, doofus." Phillip joined them, his plate sporting a stack of pancakes that rivaled the gravity defiance of Pisa's famous tower. "This is so much better than that slop we get fed at school." He forked up half a pancake, sighing in pleasure as he crammed it in his mouth in one bite.

Amanda groaned at the two of them. "Guys, this is a buffet, not an eating contest at a county fair."

Lee gently nudged her arm. "Hey, they're just trying to make sure they get their money's worth."

"Or bankrupt this restaurant." Amanda was filled with a sense of contentment as she looked around the table at her family. Okay, so she couldn't remember all of her past, but she and Lee had apparently done an admirable job as parents over the past few years.

She had to laugh as she looked at Emily. In the process of eating her waffles, she'd managed to cover most of her face with a mask of whipped cream.

"Like mother, like daughter." Lee turned to Amanda with a wide grin. "Once, when we were on a, um, 'shoot', you ended up face first in a pile of white something-or-other." He chuckled softly to himself. "Well, whatever it was, the effect was pretty much the same."

"Boy, I'd give a year's allowance to have caught **that** with my camera," Jamie said with a sly smile.

"Oh, yeah, it would have definitely won you another first place ribbon, that's for sure," Lee concurred.

"I'll just bet it would," Amanda quipped as Phillip, too, joined in the general laughter. She stood and extended her hand. "Come on, Em, what do you say we leave these boys to their own devices and get you cleaned up a bit before you have anything else to eat. We girls have to stick together, you know," she added with a conspiratorial wink. Keeping a safe distance, she led her daughter to the ladies' room.

Lee and the boys were deep in conversation when they returned a few minutes later.

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting some more 'guy talk'?" she asked as they abruptly fell silent.

Phillip shook his head. "Nah, Junior here was just asking us men of the world for some dating advice."

"Hey," Jamie protested. "It's a scary thing asking a girl out when you don't know what's she's going to say."

"That's true," his brother answered thoughtfully. With a mocking gleam in his eyes, he turned to his stepfather. "Maybe he should try to con her into asking him out. What do you think, Lee?"

"Don't you have a whole buffet table waiting for you to demolish it?" Lee asked pointedly, darting a quick glace in Amanda's direction.

"I want some bacon and eggs," Emily piped up.

"I can take a hint," Philip laughed. He walked over and took his sister by the hand. "Come on, Em, I'll help you."

They headed back to the food tables, Jamie following close behind.

"Okay, so what was that all about?" Amanda asked, sitting down beside Lee.

"Oh, nothing." He suddenly became absorbed in adding sugar to his coffee.

"Why don't I believe you? Philip wouldn't by any chance have been talking about our first date, would he?"

He let out a low laugh. "Which one?"

She drew back to look at him. "We had more than one first date?"

"Uh, kind of," he replied sheepishly. "There was the official one . . . and the one I kinda tricked you into."

"You can't leave me hanging like that," she teased. "Spill it."

"It was nothing, really. There was a Verdi Festival playing at the Kennedy, so I happened to pick up a couple of tickets, then casually let you pick me up. Strictly in the line of duty, of course."

"Of course," she laughed. "You make it sound like some kind of training exercise."

"Well, actually . . ." He shook his head. "The truth was, I was just . . . uh, well . . . chicken. To come right out and ask you, I mean. So I pretended I was showing you how to make a casual contact with a subject – to get them to, uh, ask you out."

"You're right," she said. "You were chicken. And you first said 'I love you' in a note, I suppose."

Lee grinned sheepishly. "Uh, well, not exactly. I kind of did that over the telephone."

"The telephone? Lee!"

"There's a perfectly good explanation, Amanda," he protested. "Just not one I can think of at the moment."

She groaned in mock horror. "I don't think I even want to know how you proposed."

"Oh, that was really romantic," he assured her, leaning towards her. "It was early in the morning, not too far past dawn. I knelt down – well, okay, squatted down – and took your hands in mine. You told me you loved me and I said, 'then will you marry me?' And you said . . ."

Amanda pushed his chest away and held him at arm's length. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Ah, nothing much. We were kind of being held prisoner by a terrorist at the time, and we thought we were about to die, but other than that . . ."

"Phony dates, telephone calls, terrorists . . . is that what our life together has been like?" Frowning in mock horror, she ran a finger down his chest. "You'd better come up with a nice, romantic story for me, Mr. Stetson, no danger, no intrigue, no bad guys, or you're in big trouble."

"Exactly how big would that trouble be?" he inquired, his grin growing.

"More trouble than you can handle. So what's it going to be?"

"If you can't respect me as a person, I'm leaving."

Amanda looked at Lee and shook her head as another diatribe reached them from the next table. That couple had no idea what real problems were. She should turn around and tell them that the next morning she was scheduled to take an experimental drug that could possibly wipe out every memory she had of her family.

Pushing that thought from her mind, she turned back to her husband. "Now, about that story . . ."

TBC


	30. Chapter 30

~~XXIX~~

"I'm afraid that's the last of the popcorn," Amanda said, placing a large bowl on the coffee table. "Sorry, guys."

Lee watched as Phillip and Jamie exchanged a look. They'd heard it, too, then; the carefully disguised undercurrent of tension running through her words.

Trying to lighten the mood, Phillip grabbed a handful of popcorn. "That's okay, Mom," he mumbled through a full mouth. "We're probably going to order a pizza later anyway."

"Oh," Amanda said, folding her arms across her chest as she looked closely at her sons. "I guess I should have thought to pick up a few more things at the market, but I didn't realize . . ."

"Hey, we're growing boys," Jamie said a little too jovially as her words trailed off. "Right, Phillip?"

"Right. Tell her it's perfectly normal, Lee," he said, looking to his stepfather.

"Which part?" Lee shot back, playing along with the game. "The five trips to the buffet at brunch? Or maybe the giant hero sandwiches you polished off at dinner then chased down with a barrel of junk food."

Phillip laughed, a flat, brittle sound. "Well, watching Sly there outwit the army brass is pretty exhausting work."

"I'll say," Jamie agreed. "Sure you won't change your mind and watch the rest of the movies with us, Mom? It's gonna be great. We've got the entire 'First Blood' series here."

Amanda rolled her eyes. "As tempting as that sounds, I think I'm going to have to leave 'second' and 'third' blood to all you fellas. Have fun."

"'Night, Mom," Phillip called out quickly as she headed upstairs, while Jamie added a hasty, "You don't know what you're missing."

Phillip shook his head and took some more popcorn. "I guess we should have picked a different movie to watch, huh? Blood and guts isn't exactly Mom's style."

"No, it isn't," Lee agreed with a groan.

"She might have liked the second movie better," Jamie said as he searched through the popcorn bowl to find some of the buttery kernels. "There's a girl in that one."

"Who, if memory serves me, gets the axe in the first five minutes," Lee returned, nudging his stepson lightly on the arm. "Just like I did years ago when I made the mistake of letting you two watch it."

Phillip let out a slow laugh. "Well, you were kind of an easy touch back in those days. We couldn't help ourselves."

"Yeah. We didn't really mean to get you into trouble," Jamie added.

"Sure you didn't," Lee said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. "That's why you conned me into renting a movie your mother had expressly forbidden you to watch."

"Well, I might have been working off just a little bit of, uh, misplaced anger at the time," Jamie said with a remorseful laugh. "I guess I was a pretty rotten kid, huh?"

Lee chuckled softly. "I won't deny that you had your moments, but I somehow managed to tolerate you."

"You weren't all that bad, either, Lee. Really," Jamie assured him, a grin pulling at his lips. "Boy, Mom sure was steamed, though, wasn't she?"

"Yeah, at **us,** worm brain," Phillip reminded him. "We were the ones who got grounded."

"I didn't come out of it totally unscathed," Lee stated wryly. "I did have to sit through a two hour lecture on child psychology and the subtle nuances of the movie rating system."

"Maybe we got the better end of the deal after all," Phillip teased. "I'd rather be grounded any day than get one of Mom's lectures."

"I'll say. She can make you feel guilty without even trying." Jamie frowned and sighed. "I don't think I would have minded one tonight, though."

"I know," Phillip agreed. "Mom was acting a little weird, you know? Grandma noticed, too. I think she said something to her about it before she went out on her date."

"Great," Lee muttered under his breath. Dotty always meant well, but sometimes her rather pointed observations hurt more than they helped. No wonder Amanda had barely spoken two words since dinner.

"What do you think, Lee?" Jamie wanted to know. "Is Mom really okay or . . ."

"Your mother probably needs a good night's sleep, just like I do." Lee made a show of stretching then nonchalantly pushed himself up off the couch. "Give my regards to Rambo. I'm off to bed."

"Good try," Phillip said, calling his bluff. "But we know you're worried, too. What if Mom doesn't get her memory back?"

Lee gazed down into the faces of his stepsons. They suddenly looked more like the boys he'd known years ago than the young men they'd become. "Look, guys, let's not borrow trouble, okay? We'll deal with that when and if it happens. Remember, the top scientists in this country have been refining the antidote all week. Trust that they know what they're doing."

"Do you?" Jamie asked in a quiet voice.

"Yes, I do." It was a compassionate lie, but one that was rewarded by the smiles on his stepsons' faces. "Now, are you guys gonna watch the rest of those classic flicks you made me rent, or what?"

"Should we turn the volume down?" Phillip asked. "We don't want to wake up Emily."

Lee shook his head. "Don't worry about it - she's out like a light. I think Rambo himself could set off a bomb in the living room tonight and she wouldn't hear it."

Phillip laughed. "I guess we did kind of wear her out this afternoon playing touch football."

"Yeah, the game where she has the football and doesn't let us touch it." Jamie stifled a yawn. "I don't know who wore out whom."

"Hey, doofus, you aren't going to cop out on me here, are you?"

"Naw, I'll get my second wind in about an hour. It's only eleven thirty."

"Ah, to be in college again," Lee kidded. "When you don't even think about going out until midnight."

"Hey, that's the best part of the evening," Phillip assured him.

Lee's lips curved into a smile. "Remind me to have this discussion with you again in a few years. Goodnight, fellas."

"'Night, Lee," he heard from both of them as he climbed the stairs. Lee smiled softly to himself. It was good to have Phillip and Jamie home again – if only for a few days. They'd been so insistent about staying until after Amanda tried the antidote again. He knew how badly they wanted their mother to get her memory back, but Lee knew there was more to it than that. They were staying for him, too, just in case . . .

Lee pushed the thought from his mind. It would all turn out all right; it had to – for Phillip, Jamie, Emily - all their sakes. He was just tired, that's all; he should follow Amanda's lead and try to get some sleep.

He entered the bedroom quietly, so as not to disturb her, but Amanda wasn't in bed as he'd supposed. Instead, she was standing by the window, arms folded stiffly across her chest, the sleeves of her of favorite blue nightgown bunched up above her elbows. The lights were out and the curtains drawn back so that she could see the street.

"I thought you were going to watch TV with the boys for awhile," she murmured as he closed the door.

He quickly crossed the room and slipped his arms around her. "Let's see," he whispered. "Watch Sylvester Stallone slaughter his way through the desert or go to bed with my wife. Tough choice."

She laughed, a rich, warm sound from deep inside. "I always knew you had discriminating tastes."

"That's right," he said, running his lips along the slope of her neck, "I do." As she drew in a sharp little breath, he tightened his embrace. "You were awfully quiet tonight. Even the boys noticed."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset them."

"They're not upset, just . . . concerned, the same as I am."

"Don't be. I'm fine, really. I just needed some time by myself."

Taking her by the shoulders, he slowly turned her around and took her hand in his. "If you'd rather be alone, I could go back downstairs."

Amanda shrugged. "I don't especially want to be alone, but . . . I don't really want to talk, either." She looked up at him. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing," Lee said. "There's no need." He turned over her hand and pressed the inside of her wrist to his mouth. He saw her muscles jump, almost as if a small shock had gone through her, and he kissed the same spot again, feeling her pulse flutter and tremble against his lips. "I love you, Amanda," he whispered gently. "I'll do whatever you need to help you through this."

She nodded with a quick, almost rough, jerk of her head. "Then stop talking and lock the door."

Sensing her urgency, Lee crossed the room and quickly flipped the lock, but when he turned back to the window, she was gone. "Amanda . . ."

Before he could finish, she was in his arms, walking him slowly towards their bed. "Don't," she muttered roughly into his ear. "Okay? I just need . . . I want . . ."

Her words dissolved into a shuddering breath as she stepped away from him to bring her gaze level with his. She'd switched on the nightlight in the bathroom, its pale glow revealing a look of intense emotion in her dark brown eyes Lee couldn't quite define. Fear, maybe, mixed with a raw, aching need. Whatever it was, it spoke to him on a primal level, and he quietly nodded his understanding.

He could feel her body tremble as she reached out and put her arms around him. Her fingers were demanding as she hurriedly slid them around his neck. Arching against him, she twisted her hands in his soft hair and pulled his face to hers. Her tongue meshed roughly with his as she drew him into her mouth, sucking and pulling him deep into her throat. Through the thin material of her nightgown he could feel her heart beating frantically.

As she drew her fingers down over his neck again, he managed to gasp out a hoarse, "Amanda," but she didn't seem inclined to heed his unspoken plea. Instead she undid the top buttons of his shirt, almost tearing at the small plastic discs in her haste. Pushing back his shirt, she ran her hands over the newly exposed skin of his shoulders. Her fingers gripped him tightly, holding him still as she repeatedly flicked her warm tongue into the hollow of his throat.

"Amanda," he said again, putting his hands on her arms and gently pushing her away, "why don't we slow down for just a minute."

"You don't want me?" she asked, her dark eyes dissolving into a hurt look as she glanced down.

"I didn't say that," he replied immediately. "It's not that at all. I'm just worried about you." Placing a finger gently beneath her chin, he tilted her head up. "Because this all suddenly seemed, well, a little bit like desperation to me."

Stiffening, she quickly turned away. "I guess I didn't realize my lovemaking left so much to be desired," she said, her words clipped and curt.

"Hey, that's not fair," he returned in kind. "I am not complaining, believe me. I'm just trying to understand."

"There's nothing to understand." Abruptly moving to the bed, she pulled back the covers, and slipped between the sheets. "Goodnight, Lee."

"Amanda . . ." He squinted into the semi-darkness. What just happened here? One minute they were kissing and the next it had all fallen apart.

"Amanda," he tried once more, "if this is about tomorrow . . ."

"I already told you, I don't want to talk," she whispered harshly, tucking the covers tightly under her chin. "Can't you just leave it at that?"

"Yeah, sure," he grumbled, letting out his exasperation in one long, loud breath. "Whatever you want. That seems to be what this is all about, doesn't it?"

He thought he heard a soft, mewing sound from beneath the covers, but he obstinately ignored it, instead running both hands through his hair. If he lived to be a hundred, he would never understand women. Most especially not the one he was married to.

Shaking his head, he quickly undressed and changed into pajama bottoms. Bunching up his discarded clothes, he tossed them into a corner. The wrinkled pile at least afforded him some small measure of satisfaction; Amanda always hated it when he used the floor as his clothes hamper.

He cast one more glance in her direction, but she hadn't moved, her body still curled into a tight ball beneath the blankets. That was just fine by him; if she didn't want to talk, then neither did he. Biting down on his bottom lip, he marched into the bathroom.

~ ~ SMK ~ ~

Amanda lay huddled beneath the covers, listening to the sounds of Lee moving around the bathroom. She didn't have to see his face to know that he was angry. A drawer slamming shut with a bang, water running too forcefully in the sink, the toilet lid falling with a loud thud told the story all too well. As the bathroom door finally creaked open, she shut her eyes tightly and pulled the quilt even closer. She heard Lee's footsteps cross the room, stopping for a moment at the foot of their bed.

"Amanda," he whispered, but she remained silent.

He blew out an exasperated breath and walked around the bed. A sudden tickle of cold air crept over her back as he slipped beneath the covers. He carefully stretched out beside her, making sure their bodies didn't come into the slightest contact.

Amanda twisted the edge of the sheet between her fingers, wondering what the pattern had been for this type of fight in the past. Had they let things sit until morning, hoping that their anger would burn out? Did Lee usually make the first move towards a reconciliation, or was she the one who reached out to him?

Suddenly none of that was important. All that mattered was that this might very well be their last night together for a long while, maybe even forever. It would be bad enough not to regain any more memories than she currently had, but what was absolutely terrifying was the thought that she might forget Lee entirely. Dr. McJohn had reassured her that that was a highly improbable scenario, but then again, how likely was it that a suburban housewife would end up becoming a federal agent and marrying her partner?

Rolling over on her back, Amanda resolutely tried to force all such disquieting thoughts out of her mind. She and Lee were together right then and there, and she wasn't going to throw away any more of the precious moments they had left.

She drew in a long breath, trying to figure out exactly how to start. "Dr. McJohn called this afternoon," she finally managed to say in a small voice.

"What?" The mattress shifted beneath Lee's weight as he turned towards her.

"Dr. McJohn called this afternoon," she repeated. "While you and the boys were out playing football with Emily."

"What did he say?" Lee asked, his voiced pierced with anxiety. "Is there a problem with the antidote?"

"Sort of." She pushed back the quilt and stared up through the darkness at the ceiling.

"Amanda, please, tell me what's wrong." He reached out with one hand and gently touched her cheek.

"He said," she choked down a sob, "that he's been having a closer look at my blood tests and he thinks . . . if it doesn't work this time, he doesn't think I should try again. This is going to be it. Whatever part of my memory I end up with tomorrow, that's all I get." Sitting up, she pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around her legs as she hugged herself. "I wish tomorrow was over with," she said with sudden vehemence. "So I wouldn't have to think about it any more. I've tried so hard to stop, but I can't seem to help myself."

"You don't have to do this, you know," Lee whispered roughly. "One phone call, Amanda – that's all it takes to call this whole thing off."

"And then what?" she returned.

"Then we go on with our lives, our family, together."

She shook her head. "It isn't that easy, and you know it. What am I supposed to do, go back to Station One and start all over again? Or maybe just chuck it all to be a stay-at-home mom again, huh? Just how long do you think we'd last like that?"

"I can't believe you just said that," he said, switching on the lamp on the bedside table. In the faint light she could see the dark intensity of his eyes as he reached out and put his hands on her arms. "Have I ever once given you the impression that this – what we have right this moment – isn't enough for me?"

"Not in so many words. But I can see it in your eyes, Lee. My mother's, too, and the boys . . . all of you waiting, expecting me to be the person I was before." She ducked her head and stared down at the bedcovers.

"Amanda . . . we don't . . . I don't . . ." He enclosed her in his arms, one hand brushing lightly over her back. "You're cold," he murmured as his fingers touched gooseflesh. "Come here." Gently pulling her to him, he lay down, spooning her body against his and covering them both with the quilt. "That's better," he said as he felt her relax at last.

"Yeah, it is," she said, pulling his hand across her face. "I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier, Lee," she murmured into his palm. "You were right – I was feeling a little desperate there for a moment. I just wanted to give you something to remember me by, I guess."

"That wasn't the issue, Amanda," he said, chuckling softly into her hair. "I just wanted the opportunity to return the favor."

"So what's stopping you?" Pulling his hand lower, she whispered breathily, "I wouldn't mind a memory or two of my own."

"Two, huh?" He laughed huskily. "I'll have to see what I can do." Moving his lips to her ear, he teased the lobe with his tongue then whispered softly, "Does this mean we're through arguing?"

"What do you think?" she replied with a quick laugh.

"I think we're definitely through arguing, Mrs. Stetson," he responded, pulling her closer. "For tonight, anyway."

TBC


	31. Chapter 31

~~XXX~~

"Good morning, Mrs. Stetson." The nurse's greeting was upbeat and cheerful as she entered the room, pulling a cartful of monitoring equipment behind her. "Dr. McJohn is just about ready to get started, so let's get you all set up for him, shall we?"

Amanda nodded, keeping the skimpy hospital gown wrapped tightly across her chest as she climbed into the narrow bed. "Is it all right if my husband stays?"

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." Lee glared at the nurse, almost as if challenging her to argue with him.

"I don't think that will be a problem. As long as Mr. Stetson lets us do our jobs."

Despite her pleasant demeanor, there was a warning implicit in her words. Either McJohn had briefed the woman on what to expect from him, or Scarecrow's reputation for chewing up and spitting out medical personnel had filtered down through the echelons, from doctor to nurse.

It didn't matter. He'd assured Amanda that he would stay by her side every step of the way this time around; rules or no rules, it was one promise he fully intended to keep.

"Okay, let's get started," the nurse said as she straightened the tangle of red, white and blue leads, a slight frown forming as one of them caught.

Lee rolled his eyes. It's always the blue wire, he thought wryly; today was certainly no exception. Just as Amanda always said . . .

The thought evaporated as the nurse opened the thin hospital gown, baring Amanda's chest with clinical efficiency. Lee observed with an odd detachment as the woman probed the area and began to attach the cardiac leads above, below and to the center of Amanda's left breast. The sight of his wife's body, so soft and sensual last night in their bedroom, produced an entirely different reaction this morning. In the unforgiving glare of the overhead lights, she merely looked small and achingly vulnerable.

Amanda winced as the nurse pressed against the puckered flesh of her scar. "I'm sorry," the woman apologized, "but we need a good contact point."

Lee saw Amanda nod, her eyes seeking his over the nurse's head. He wanted to assure her that everything would be all right, but his mouth was suddenly dry and the words wouldn't come. Why was he just standing there, letting them do this to her? He should want nothing more than to pull those damned wires from her body and kiss away each and every mark on her skin. Show her in the most persuasive way that he loved her just the way she was, that she didn't need to do this . . .

Except, he realized for the first time, that wasn't quite true. Yes, he could object all he wanted to, scream up and down the halls of this clinic that the risk was too great, but part of him wanted her to do this, wanted that infernal antidote to work.

Lee ran a hand through his hair, his mind skimming back over their years together, all the things Amanda didn't – couldn't - remember. People fall in love in the most unlikely times and places, and they were no exception. He could tell her about it, recount every last anecdote down to the smallest detail, but it wasn't really the same.

He wanted his wife back, the woman who had experienced the wonder of every moment along with him, the joyful times as well as the painful ones. And she'd known that somehow, known it all along, no matter how hard he protested to the contrary. As long as neither one of them could remember, it had been okay. But when his memory had returned, that knowledge had stood between them. Maybe it always would.

Was that why she'd been so insistent? Did she know, deep down, just how desperately he wanted her to remember?

Ashamed and angry, he turned away. Of course she'd known; his wife had an uncanny knack for hearing the things he wasn't saying, for seeing into the depths of his soul. Amnesiac or not, she could still read him as easily as their daughter's beloved bunny book. And still she loved him, flaws and all.

"There, we're all set," the nurse pronounced as the cardiac monitors sprang to life. Lee could hear the steady 'bleep-bleep' in the background, the sound charting the course of Amanda's life. Both their lives. "Dr. McJohn will be right in to administer the drug. Good luck."

Amanda looked at Lee. "Could you ask him to give us a few minutes?" she asked, the words coming out in a breathless rasp.

After a brief hesitation, the nurse nodded. "Just press the call button when you're ready. And try to relax, Mrs. Stetson," she advised, laying a gentle hand on Amanda's shoulder. "Your pulse is a bit fast."

Lee waited until the door had closed before moving to Amanda's side. "If you're having second thoughts . . ."

Biting her lip, she shook her head. "There's something I need to give you," she said, her eyes unable to meet his gaze. "Could you bring me my purse?"

"Sure." Moving to the closet, he quickly retrieved the smart black handbag he'd given her for her last birthday. Despite daily use, the leather felt unbelievable soft to his touch. It had cost a small fortune, but the salesgirl had assured him it was by a designer of some repute. She must have been right; even Francine had complimented it. And the look on Amanda's face when she'd opened the brightly wrapped box had been worth every penny.

He let out a sigh as he walked to the bed and placed the purse onto her lap, suddenly understanding more clearly than ever how she felt. It wasn't fair that he remembered her birthday and she didn't. She deserved a chance to get it all back – for her own sake as well as his.

"Thanks," Amanda said as she began to fish through her purse. "I meant to do this earlier, before we left the house, but then the boys actually got up to eat breakfast, and what with getting Emily off to school . . ."

She stopped short as he squeezed her arm. "I'm rambling a bit, aren't?" she asked with a quick laugh. "Guess I must be more nervous than I thought, huh?"

"It's okay," he murmured, sitting down beside her. "I'm nervous, too."

Acknowledging him with a brief nod, she withdrew a rose-colored envelope from her purse. "If something goes wrong . . ."

"It won't," he interrupted, refusing to meet her earnest gaze. "Stop talking nonsense."

He felt the sharp pressure of her fingers as they dug into his arm. "We don't know that, Lee. If something goes wrong," she reiterated again, "and for some reason I wake up and don't remember anything about you . . . us . . . our life . . ." The words choked her, but she took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "Then I want you to give me this."

He turned the envelope over gingerly in his hands, as if it would singe him if he held it too tightly. "What is this?"

"A letter. I wrote it to myself last night . . . well, this morning, really . . . after we made love." She let out a long sigh and continued. "It's about us, our life, what you mean to me. If anything happens, give it to me, okay?"

He swallowed hard and nodded.

"And I want you to promise me one more thing," she said in words so low they were barely audible over the beeping monitor.

"Anything," he croaked.

She bit her lip as she turned her deep brown eyes on him. They were brighter than usual, illuminated by unshed tears. "I'm not going to ask you to take care of the boys and Emily, because I know you'll do that. You're a wonderful father, Lee. I'm glad they'll have you."

He felt something tear at his chest. "Amanda, you don't have to do this," he insisted, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that this time he meant every single word. "I . . ."

She raised a finger to his lips, cutting him off. "If this backfires . . . if for some reason I wake up and don't remember you, promise me . . . promise that you won't give up on me. That you'll make me fall in love with you all over again. "

"I'll never give up on you," he whispered hoarsely as he leaned forward to claim her lips. The kiss was deep and searching, as if somehow trying to sear itself into both their memories. Their mouths moved together, warm and sweet, seeking, probing, joining, until Lee felt the breath being sucked out of him. Still, his tongue continued to push demandingly into her mouth, until Amanda moaned softly in the back of her throat, the blips on the cardiac monitor increasing with rapid succession.

"Wow," she said as he pulled away, "if that doesn't bring an emergency response team, I don't know what will."

Lee grinned, his fingers playing with the ties on her blue and white hospital gown. "It's this damned outfit," he told her with a rueful shake of his head. "I can't seem to control myself."

Her eyes suddenly brimmed with amusement. "Hey, maybe I'll have to convince Dr. McJohn to let me bring this home then."

"Maybe you will at that," he said, the deep strains of his laugher mingling with hers until at last it died away, and Amanda drew in a shuddering breath.

"Okay," she said, her expression sobering. "Let's do this."

He licked his dry lips. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Lee. I'm very sure." She reached for his hand, entwining her fingers with his. "No matter what happens with the antidote, we'll be okay. I can feel it."

Lee looked down at their joined hands, suddenly realizing everything she said was true. The love they shared was strong enough to withstand whatever life threw at them; the past few months had more than proven that. If she didn't regain her memory or if - God forbid - she lost it all, they would weather that, too. The same way they did everything else . . . together.

His hand still meshed tightly with hers, he pushed the call button.

TBC


	32. Chapter 32

Epilogue

It was one of those warm, sultry evenings in June - the kind that seemed made for no other purpose than slipping out to the gazebo with her husband, his strong chest pillowing her head as they listened to the rhythmic sounds of the night. Instead, here she was, fighting her way into a hot, stuffy school gymnasium, the buzz of what seemed like hundreds of voices magnifying the dull pounding in her head.

"Amanda! Over here!"

Lee's voice rose above the general din. She methodically searched the crowd until she located him on the far right-hand side of the room, sitting with the rest of the family a few rows from the front. She answered his wave with one of her own then quickly joined them.

"Sorry I'm so late," she apologized in a rush as she eased past Phillip and his girlfriend, Renee, and into the empty seat beside Lee. "That darned training class dragged on longer than expected, and the traffic coming back into Arlington was a nightmare. Did I miss anything?"

"Only the first round of watered down punch and stale cookies," Lee informed her. "They just announced that the ceremony won't be starting for another five minutes."

"Thank goodness they seem to be running as late as I am. I'd never forgive myself if I missed Emily's big moment."

"Yes," Dotty concurred, "she looks absolutely precious in that little cap and gown. You know, Amanda, it's too bad the boys' preschool didn't have a graduation ceremony like this. Emily's really so excited about it."

"I know, Mother. We could hardly get her to sleep last night."

"Yeah." Lee's grin grew wide as he looked at Phillip and Renee. "We had to tell her that you two would take her back to the zoo."

"That sounds like fun," Renee said as Phillip groaned.

"Don't let Em hear you say that," he warned, "or trust me, by the end of the summer, you won't want to see another animal as long as you live."

"Don't be melodramatic, King," Renee shot back. "You know you love the zoo."

"Correction – I **used** to love the zoo before Emily started dragging me there on a weekly basis."

Amanda smiled and caught Lee's eye as she listened to their banter. Since Renee had started her summer internship with the Washington Post at the end of May, she'd become a semi-permanent fixture in their household. Amanda was enjoying the opportunity to really get to know Phillip's girlfriend. There was something about their relationship that struck a familiar chord. It was obvious they'd become very good friends, and she couldn't be happier for her son.

"Hey, Mom, Lee, smile."

Amanda felt Lee's arm pull her closer as the camera clicked. "Oh, Jamie," she complained as she tucked a few stay hairs back behind her ear. "You should give me some warning before you do that."

Jamie laughed. "But then it wouldn't be a candid shot."

"Candid is one thing, startled is quite another, young man. As it is, Emily's going to look back at these photos and think her mother was permanently frazzled."

"Aw, come on, Mom, you know we think you look great when you're frazzled," Jamie teased. "Right, Phillip?"

Phillip shook his head as Renee slipped her hand proprietarily into his. "Uh, I think I'll take the fifth here," he informed everyone with a quick laugh. "It's much safer that way."

"Have I told you how nice it is to have another woman around this summer?" Amanda asked her son's friend.

"I'm the one who's grateful to all of you," Renee replied, entwining her fingers more tightly with Phillip's. "You guys have made me feel like a part of the family."

"That's because you will be soon," she heard Phillip murmur, Renee's response lost in the couple's soft laughter. Amanda glanced over at Lee, who suddenly seemed inordinately interested in something in the program.

"All right, Stetson," she whispered, "What do you know that I don't know?"

Lee's eyes widened. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yeah, right." She glanced from her husband to her son, who now also seemed to be studying his program. "Just what went on between the two of you last night at Randy's? And don't you dare tell me it was 'need to know'."

"Hey, all we did was eat a couple of steaks and drink a few beers," Lee said, a little too quickly. "Nothing more, I swear."

"Uh-huh."

"Honestly, Amanda, I think all that time you've been spending up at Station One has given you a belated case of shadow shock. You're seeing conspiracies everywhere. Tell you what," he murmured as she folded her arms across her chest and continued to glare at him. "If we table this discussion for the moment, I'll let you interrogate me later to your heart's content."

"Will this be a private interrogation?" she asked, the corners of her mouth beginning to twitch.

Lee leaned closer to whisper in her ear. "As private as you'd like it to be, Mrs. Stetson."

"Hmm, I'll have to think about that." She let her tongue slowly dart out to moisten her lips, smiling softly to herself as Lee shifted slightly in his seat. That move never failed to get a reaction from her husband.

"Are they ever going to get this show on the road?" Dotty asked as she shot another impatient glance at her watch.

"What's the matter, Dotty, hot date tonight?" Lee inquired.

Dotty's cheeks flushed as she nodded. "If you must know, yes I do. I'm meeting Captain Curt later."

Lee's eyebrows shot up. "Captain Curt? Now there's a name from the past. I didn't realize he was back in the picture."

"Well, he's not exactly 'in' the picture," she answered with a cryptic smile. "Right now he's in a holding pattern somewhere around the edges."

"But Mother, I thought you were seeing that nice Mr. Henderson from down the street," Amanda stated, confused. Some days she could swear she needed a scorecard to keep track of her mother's active social life.

"Where's it written that a girl can't play the field, Amanda?" Dotty asked innocently. "A little 'relaxation' never hurt anyone."

"Mother!" Amanda exclaimed as the others laughed.

Dotty's eyes widened. "What? You take things entirely too seriously these days, darling. I think maybe you could use a little relaxation of your own."

"Don't worry, that's high on our agenda as soon as we get to Kauai," Lee said as Amanda rolled her eyes. He had somehow managed to wangle two entire weeks off in July. They were planning to take a long overdue trip together, just the two of them.

"Yeah, I can't believe you guys," Jamie said. "I couldn't talk you into going to see Jurassic Park last month, but you can't wait to spend two weeks on the island where it was shot. Go figure."

"I don't think they're going there to watch dinosaur movies, worm brain," Phillip kidded. "You really should get your nose out of those film books of yours once in a while."

"Maybe you should try reading a book sometime," Jamie shot back. "The special effects in that movie were incredible. Not to mention the settings and locale . . ."

Amanda caught Lee's look of amusement. She supposed it was more than a little ironic that Jamie had chosen to pursue a career as a documentary filmmaker. "I promise we'll take some pictures of the location for you, sweetheart," she told Jamie.

"Yeah," Lee said in a husky whisper, just for her. "First thing."

Blowing out an exasperated breath, Amanda glanced at her husband. He looked particularly relaxed tonight, the deep blue in his sport shirt brightening the color of his eyes. He smelled of fresh aftershave, while she felt as if half the grit of Station One was still clinging to her. He'd obviously found time to go home and change before the ceremony. She inwardly cursed Dr. Smyth and his blasted certification program. Her mother was right; she could certainly use a vacation. "I wish we were leaving next week instead of next month," she lamented to Lee.

"I know what you mean," he commiserated. "But at the moment we'll have to settle for a little good, old-fashioned anticipation."

Amanda let out a deep sigh as her eyes drifted over her husband once again. No man had a right to look that good. Anticipation . . . how did that old Carly Simon song put it? Yeah, it was definitely making her crazy tonight. Their trip couldn't come soon enough to suit her . . .

Her mother's voice interrupted her pleasant daydreams of moonlit tropical nights. "Well, it's about time," she heard Dotty say. "I think the program is finally going to start. I wonder what held things up."

"They probably couldn't get that delinquent Charlie Snyder to settle down," Lee grumbled before Amanda could shush him. Ever since Charlie had taken it upon himself to inform Emily of the finer points of marriage and divorce, Lee had taken a decidedly dim view of the poor kid. Since Emily's enthusiasm for her 'bestest' friend showed no signs of waning, Lee's nose was definitely out of joint. Amanda could only imagine what another ten years or so would do to Lee's overprotective tendencies. Maybe, if she played her cards right, she'd be able to wangle an out-of-town assignment for the duration of Emily's teen years.

The opening strains of Pomp and Circumstance interrupted her thoughts. As the tiny graduates processed across the stage to their chairs, Lee captured her hand. "Hard to believe she's going to start kindergarten next year," he murmured almost wistfully.

Yes, Amanda thought, her heart in her throat, it certainly was. Part of her felt sad at the prospect of her baby embarking on her official school career, yet another part of her was overjoyed at the prospect. There was a time this past year when she wasn't sure she and Lee would make it to this milestone in their daughter's life, happy, whole, together. Yet here they were . . .

"We're pretty lucky, huh?" Lee's words had a plaintive quality as they echoed her thoughts.

"I guess we are at that," she returned with a sigh. "When I think about the way things might have turned out . . ."

Lee squeezed her hand. "I know. I still have nightmares about it. You running off with good old Dan . . ."

"That would be good old Dean," she playfully corrected.

". . . And me ending up seeing Emily one weekend a month and a week at Christmas."

"Oh, Lee," she said in a soft stage whisper. "You know that scenario would never have flown, right?"

He shot her a smug look. "So you couldn't have left me, huh?"

"That's what you think. I would have given you two weeks visitation at Christmas." Her grin turned into a teasing laugh. "And I might even have been persuaded to throw in a week during the summer for good measure. If you were really good, that is."

"Oh, yeah?" Lee let his finger barely graze the side of her leg. "Give me a few days alone with you on Maui, and I'll show you just how good I can be, Mrs. Stetson."

"Behave yourself, and watch the program," Amanda warned as she placed his hand back in his own lap.

Grinning, Lee turned his eyes back to the stage. Though her husband's attention was ostensibly focused on their daughter, Amanda could almost feel his thoughts reaching out to her. Biting her lip, she let her mind wander back to their vacation. Two whole weeks, just the two of them, no family, no work, no outside pressures. A chance to truly celebrate their relationship after coming precariously close to having it slip away.

Not that the last few months hadn't been good. They had been extraordinary, actually. From that moment she'd woken up in the Agency infirmary, Lee's hand firmly clasping hers, each new day together had been nothing short of a gift.

"Emily Stetson."

Jamie hurried up the aisle, snapping a rapid series of photos while the rest of the family clapped proudly. As her daughter crossed the stage and received her 'diploma', Amanda saw Jamie creep closer, bending down on one knee to capture the moment. Unfortunately, Emily saw him, too, and leaned forward to whisper a loud, "Hi, Jamie!" He tried to wave her on, but she misunderstood, and the auditorium twittered with muffled laughter as she waved back. As one of the teachers gently nudged Emily back toward her seat, Amanda could only look at Lee and smile.

"So, what do you say, Mrs. Stetson," he whispered thirty minutes later as they watch Emily and Charlie race two little boys around the room. "Were those twenty-three hours of labor worth it?"

Amanda groaned. "It was twenty-three hours and forty minutes, to be exact," she muttered, "and that's one memory I wish I hadn't gotten back, thank you very much."

"Yeah," he nodded grimly, "I know what you mean."

"I highly doubt that, Stetson. I was the one doing all the work, you know."

"Yeah, well, I was the one who was almost permanently disabled," he returned. "I had to re-qualify on the firing range with my right hand after you got through squeezing it."

"Oh, don't talk to me about re-qualifying," Amanda muttered back. "I've spent the last two weeks at Station One babysitting the new recruits. Listen, Stetson, the next time you decide to call Dr. Smyth a 'nursery rhyme spouting ass,' you're going to be the one to pay the piper, not me."

He gave her his best innocent look. "Hey, can I help it if I had to fill in for Billy at the anti-terrorism symposium? After he got that case of laryngitis, there was nothing I could do."

Amanda rolled her eyes. "I still say you planned that. If you and Billy hadn't stayed to watch the Orioles play in that downpour . . ."

Lee looked at her speculatively, a gleam in his eyes. "Tell you what," he offered, "I might be persuaded to make it up to you later with one of my world class massages. Of course, my services as a masseur don't come cheap, you know."

Amanda raised an eyebrow. "And I suppose you have some sort of payment in mind."

"Not payment, exactly. I was thinking more along the lines of a trade."

Amanda cocked her head. "Like you scratch my back and I scratch yours?"

"Metaphorically speaking. I'll make you forget you ever heard of Station One, if you'll . . ."

"Good try, Stetson," Amanda said with a short laugh, "But no way."

"Aw, come on, Amanda, why not?"

"Because I don't want to, that's why."

"It's perfectly all right," he cajoled, both dimples showing as he deepened his smile. "We **are** married, you know."

"No way. That letter is just between me and . . . well, me. I have no intention of letting you read it, now or ever. Especially not since I have my memory back."

"Come on," he reached out and took her hand in his. "Then what harm could it do?"

She smiled to herself, thinking of the opening paragraphs of the letter:

 _'Most people would feel sorry for you, having forgotten so many years of your life. I'd feel sorry for you if you'd never had them. What you're about to discover is how wonderful your life is. You have a caring mother who has helped you through many of life's challenges. You have three wonderful children – two grown sons any parent would be proud of and a beautiful and intelligent daughter. And on top of all that, you have the most loving husband any woman could ever wish for._

 _No, I don't feel sorry for you at all. Because your life isn't just about to get better – it's going to get so much better than you've ever imagined.'_

"Oh, I don't know," she told Lee with a laugh, "if your head gets any bigger, it'll never fit into the airplane next month. And I, for one, am looking forward to our little trip."

"Daddy, Daddy, guess what!" Emily's eyes sparkled as she rushed toward them, Charlie close on her heels. "Charlie's gonna move six whole blocks from our house! Right, Charlie?"

"Yeah. And our new house has a gazillion rooms," he bragged.

"Wow!" Emily exclaimed, clearly impressed.

Amanda felt Lee bristle beside her. "How about you two rest for a minute and have something to drink," she said as she saw Jamie approaching with some punch. Taking the paper cups from him, she handed one to Emily and one to Charlie.

"They're pretty full," she warned. "Be careful not to . . ." Too late, she realized that Charlie had turned and was on a collision course with Lee. ". . . spill it," Amanda finished weakly, as the little boy sent the bright red liquid sloshing over the front of Lee's pants.

"Great," Lee muttered darkly, brushing at his soaked fly. "Just great."

"Come on, Em," Charlie urged, oblivious to Lee's furious expression. "They've got more cookies. Let's go!"

"Amanda . . ." he began, but she turned away, unable to hold onto her laughter.

"Jamie, go get Lee a paper towel," she managed to choke out.

"Yeah, why don't you do that," Lee sputtered, as Jamie's chuckles mingled with Amanda's. "Before I conveniently forget I promised to let you drive the BMW this weekend."

As Jamie quickly jogged off to retrieve the towel, Amanda turned to Lee. "He's just a little boy," she began.

"He's a menace, Amanda," Lee muttered as Charlie sent a tray of cookies crashing to the floor. "And at the rate he's going, he'll be lucky if he ever sees ten."

"Now Lee," she retorted, still struggling to stifle her amusement, "remember, the poor boy is 'motionally distorted', after all. And I think he's pretty lucky that he'll have Emily as a friend next year."

"Next year?" Lee frowned. "What do you mean?"

Amanda bit back the last twitters of laughter. "Well, you heard what Em said. He's moving six whole blocks from our house. That means they'll be going to kindergarten together."

"Oh, no!"

"Don't worry," she went on as she watched Emily take Charlie by the hand. "I'm sure she's more than capable of turning him around. She is my daughter, after all."

"I'm sure that's just what the kid needs," he said, his sarcasm unmistakable.

"I'm sure it is." Amanda slipped her hand into her husband's, threading her fingers through his. "I have it on good authority that you 'motionally distorted' guys don't turn out half bad."

Finis


End file.
